small talk

by Devon Neal

I never learned to float.

While friends could recline on the billowing surface

of backyard pools, the brown palm 

of the lake in June, the water swallowed me,

my ankles jagged concrete blocks,

my shoulders smooth river stones,

the goldfish of my organs swirling

in the tree limbs of my rib cage.

I could never tread water.

The stuff I’m made of is just too heavy,

my marrow like petrified wood,

my spine a clattering chain,

my lungs worn tires, waterlogged and black,

the reluctant prize of the novice fisherman.

Devon Neal (he/him) is a Bardstown, KY resident who received a B.A. in Creative Writing from Eastern Kentucky University and an MBA from The University of the Cumberlands. He currently works as a Human Resources Manager in Louisville, KY. His work has been featured in Moss Puppy Magazine, Dead Peasant, Paddler Press, MIDLVLMAG, and others.