Where I was spawned like a fluke
in the waves off the flat south shore,
and tossed alive on the Freeport docks
by a drunken man from Captain Lou’s fleet.
Where I swam in the blood-warm water
of South Oyster Bay, finning through
estuaries between grassy islands,
never losing sight of siding-covered Levitts
with extra rooms tacked on, above and behind,
or the gasoline bloom below
the Atlantic Beach Bridge, while trucks rumbled
over me, spiked on the beak of a plover.
A graduate of Manhattanville's wonderful MFA program, PJ is primarily a fiction writer, as well as a writing instructor to teens and tweens. PJ's work has appeared in The Westchester Review, The Adirondack Review, and River River. She lives in White Plains, New York, with her husband and son, and a dog named Addie who stares at her tolerantly while she reads her unfinished work aloud. (Thanks Addie.)