sleeping on the day I drown

by Bethany Jarmul

On the day I drown, I breathe salty water deep into my lungs and blow it out my nose. I bathe amongst the seaweed, dance with dolphins. I give each fish a name, until I run out of names. I dive deep, swim wide—until my legs burn, arms ache. I speak to the sea, sing to the sea turtles. They whisper stories of old, secrets of days long past. And when my spirit has exhausted itself, I sleep on a coral bed—hair floating with the tides, tangled with broken bottles, food wrappers, and cigarette butts. 

Bethany Jarmul is a writer, editor, and poet. Her work has appeared in more than 40 literary magazines and been nominated for Best of the Net and Best Spiritual Literature. She earned first place in Women On Writing's Q2 2022 essay contest. Bethany enjoys chai lattes, nature walks, and memoirs. She lives near Pittsburgh with her family. Connect with her at bethanyjarmul.com or on Twitter: @BethanyJarmul.