by Esther Sadoff
We eat by the river,
girls sunbathing
in dappled light.
They remind me
of Artemis
and her female
hunters.
The girls find
the smoothest rocks
to lie on.
Maybe it’s my own
flightiness
that makes me
think of the fickleness
of gods.
Everything is an exercise
in projection,
the way I am
no destination
yet I fear
each swooping bird
is swooping
right toward me.
The girls on the rocks
are remarkable
and unremarkable.
A thing doesn’t need
to be perfect
to be convincing.
The cold river water
makes my legs go numb,
makes my breath catch.
I am not nimble enough
to be a huntress,
but I am done with watching.
I climb over rocks
using both hands
and feet,
pick the smoothest one.
I try not to think of beauty
or perfection
though I want both.
I think of the bow
of Artemis,
Amarantos,
the unfading flower,
to be defined
without relationship to.
I want to define myself
on my own terms,
current rushing
over rock
making strong
things appear soft.
Esther Sadoff is a teacher and writer from Columbus, Ohio. She is the author of four chapbooks: Some Wild Woman (Finishing Line Press), Serendipity in France (Finishing Line Press), Dear Silence (Kelsay Books), and If I Hold my Breath (Bottlecap Press). She was nominated for a Pushcart Prize by Hole in the Head Review, and she is the winner of the Women of Ohio 2025 Poetry Award.