by Daniel Lassell
It was the motion of her body as she lurched into the waves. The tree lines breezed slowly and the droplets beaded on our paddles each time they reached for the sun. In their descent to greet the current, some dripped off sooner. There, the droplets mingled away, unrecognizable in the vast and splashing body that called them back. The swirl the water made when the paddles joined them reminded me of us.
Daniel Lassell won a William J. Maier Writing Award in 2013 and has been featured, or is forthcoming, in publications such as Reed Magazine, Steam Ticket Journal, Future Cycle, The Citron Review and Sixfold. His poems have also been anthologized, most recently in New Poetry from the Midwest 2014. He lives with his wife in Indianapolis, Indiana.
Hawaii Pacific Review 