Breathe—the center risesand you falldrivinga two hundred foot spandeceptivewaters bridged bythoughts as unyieldingas concrete,fish mutteringopen-mouthed beneathcold gray waves. Don’texhale as the girlhurls by themclocking speedsyou can’tacknowledge. Youdon’t see her, hairlike wingsephemeral catching firefrom Florida sun, wirefences nomatch for birds takingflight unnaturally. You see—not fish praying, newcathedralbrown and tanglingwith the comingtide, but juttingcall boxes placed so evermany feet. As if they couldanswer a questionso burningyou drive right into the sky.
Sharon Lee Snow. A Pushcart nominee, Sharon Lee Snow earned an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of South Florida in Tampa. Her award-winning short stories, creative nonfiction, and poetry have been published in Griffel, Glassworks, The Concrete Desert Review, Underwood, South 85, Jenny Magazine, Typehouse, Gulf Stream, Bridge Eight, Finding the Birds, and other journals. After a short move to Los Angeles, she is back home in Tampa, Florida where she is an Instructor teaching English courses. She currently is working on a short story collection, a collection of poems about LA, and a novel set in Tampa. Connect with her on Twitter and Instagram @sharonleesnow and her website www.sharonleesnow.com
