Calypso's Five Decade Soak

Poetry by Hailey Williams

Calypso's Five Decade Soak
Artwork by Camela Guevara

by Hailey Williams

Soap suds storm porcelain edges
of the Gulf of Mexico,
making landfall at record speeds.
We leave the water on, think
she’ll turn it off herself.

Freckled & bruised, a soft island –
Calypso’s breast emergent in the wide bath.
Reef-ribbed, polyp-pored, kelp-curled,
skin flakes off in salts and sands.
How long can she hold her breath?

When our tub overflows
her sand-bar knees submerge.
Next the fortified elbows,
her lighthouse nose,
colorful Keys adorning her toes.

Plastic baubles swirl
& organs bleach,
skin peels off in scutes,
her hard-bright room sings
like a wine glass as the waters rise.

An inch a year, soon a foot,
a meter, three. Our Calypso
lulled by heat, drowns.
Her heart? Brined in its own salts.
Still we do not stop the faucet.