by Cooper Young
Today, the stars are hidden
behind a veil of blue.
The waves turn themselves
inside out, and my parents
bob in the water, beyond the break.
They’ve outlived their parents,
and I don’t know if they wanted to.
My father tells me, death
can’t be that bad, no one
has bothered to come back.
Yet every time I ask
if they could be ready to pass,
they say no, today
is a good day to be alive.
The earth will swallow their bones
soon enough, but this evening
my parents will grill ahi tuna
with fresh pineapple, and together
we will sip a crisp rosé.
Cooper Young is a mathematician and poet who hails from Santa Cruz, California. His most recent work has appeared in Toho Journal, Bacopa Literary Review, Lucky Jefferson, and The Wayfarer. His new chapbook, Sacred Grounds, was published by Finishing Line Press in May 2020.
One response to “Afloat”
Is Young waiting on an inheritance? Why would he ask his parents if they’re ready to die?