shark
where i come from, there are sharks in every lake. every pool, too. greying skin, sharp teeth, beady eyes.
lulu is four years older than me. lulu says they like the taste of girl best—she does backflips off slippery bluffs into the cenotes, as if to taunt me. the water welcomes her, a warm fist; the
black surface cradling, swallowing her body like a lover. she kicks the sharks away with
dainty and practiced feet. you have to be calm, she says, but firm. they’re only errant dogs.
still, i never learn how to swim. lulu won’t teach me, no matter how i beg and plead.
seven summers ago, i did my best to teach myself. chlorined my lungs half to death in the neighbors’ pool, panting, gurgling wetly. i learned to keep myself afloat, but my limbs were
too long, too crooked, to affect the graceful swan-dives that lulu’s always could.
the sharks circled at the bottom of the pool to watch me try. their coal-cold eyes made something inside me shiver, sing.
i tried again and again. every which way i knew how.
could never cajole them into biting me,
or even coming close.
Author’s Note: “It’s about the impossibility of desirability, and an exploration of how violence against women can intersect with desirability politics. In what ways is womanhood a tension between fear of being desired, and fear of the desire to be desired?”
