Nicholas Barnes

trudging across the cool slate stone creekfloor,
clutching the biggest river rock in town,
the honorary fish boy wished for gills.
all the others would swim by, tip their hats,
and waggle their fins like gray torpedoes.
he didn’t see a purpose; life above
couldn’t hold a match to boulders in stream.
come submarine and see the hurt healing
just below a clump of umbrella plants.
muddy crawdads, steelheads, turtle shell moss.
kelp blankets, moonbeams, tiny bubbles burst.
nighttime underwater and mornings too.
flood me with wild water, make my blood cold.
wash away the i i thought i needed.

Nicholas Barnes is a poet living in Portland, Oregon whose work has appeared in over seventy publications including trampset, Juked, and Cola Literary Review. His debut chapbook, Restland, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press in 2025.