notdeermag
Rewriting History, Despy Boutris
Previously published in Ruminate Journal
CW: mentions of death & drowning
In the dream, I pull her up
from the lakescum and swim
us back to shore. It’s hot, air thick
as maple syrup, and mosquitos feast
on any flesh they find. Our bites bleed
blue as we lie in the grass
littered with ducks begging for bread,
quacking at our Wonder Bread
toes. Eyes shut, our hands clasp
in the space between us, hands
still stained from picking blackberries
from brambles, still sore
from the pricks of all those little thorns.
And it haunts me: this dream
where she lives, where it’s not me
who kills her. Because, in this dream,
it’s not me who kills her—not me
with my back turned, not seeing her
splashes turn to thrashes then to nothing
at all. In this dream,
she doesn’t even die. No limp body, no mouthful
of froth. Here, the sunrays slice
the sky, drying our silted skin. Our bodies
refract sunlight, her blonde curls so light
they’re nearly blinding—white
as the curls locked in the locket
I’ve worn around my neck ever since,
the one I’m clasping in my fist.
Despy Boutris's writing has been published or is forthcoming in Copper Nickel, Ploughshares, Crazyhorse, AGNI, American Poetry Review, The Gettysburg Review, Colorado Review, and elsewhere. Currently, she teaches at the University of Houston and serves as Editor-in-Chief of The West Review.