Tidal
by Marissa Isch
We’re cruise ships
with too many chances
to lounge around
outside the raiding zones.
The sole purpose of
delicious things is to save us—
I smoke a cigarette
you make popcorn.
Soapberry scents cling to my skin
we’re nowhere near the tropics.
Seal our laughs in mason jars
kiss until
we find ourselves naked.
The sheets
a sea we sink in
then everything exists. Even
our shadows,
even reflections,
even speech
and mascara smears.
French is a beautiful
yet terrifying language.
Learning it
wouldn’t change anything
except we could speak
of our own ecstasies
and become things
that are larger
than ourselves.
About the Author
Marissa Isch is a mother, teacher, and writer from Denver Colorado. She graduated from Pratt Institute in 2008 and between 2008-2011, she published dozens of poems & short stories in literary journals, and wrote & directed three one-act philosophical comedies for Off-Broadway. Then her “mother” and “teacher” roles took over “writer” for nearly a decade and since then, she has published short stories in The Dillydoun Review, Twenty Bellows, a poem in Dreamstone Summer Anthology. Forthcoming in Millennial Pulp, The Story Behind the Poem, and her own poem collection “My Muse Is A Night Owl" (Bookleaf Publishing). She was awarded an Author Fellowship from Martha’s Vineyard Institute of Creative writing, 2021. Marissa is currently staying up late, lesson planning, providing hugs when her children wake up, and finding time to focus on her writing.