T.R. Poulson
Windsurfing Freestyle at Sherman Island
The way the wind takes the ebb like a lover
to build ramps for jumping on starboard tack,
where I can’t stop tumbling hard, cold. The others
fly, spin, plane away. I try until I make
an upwind three-sixty. Here, in the water
no other world exists. No mortgage circling
fast before a crash. It doesn’t matter
if the man I love loves me—purple ink
on notes and texts blown off. After the wind,
I peel away my wetsuit, bare thighs new
with bruise and fall. I falter flirting. Send
him a smile among the chatter (clew-
first grubbies, shove-its, forward loops). I feel
him toss me like those ramps. So raw. So pale.
T. R. Poulson, a University of Nevada alum and proud Wolf Pack fan, supports her poetry habit by delivering for UPS in Woodside, California. Her top publications include Best New Poets, Gulf Coast, Booth, and American Literary Review. She is seeking a publisher for her first book.