by Alyse Richmond

Clutching the railing, I squint, induce
a headache. There it is –
The strangest blue whipping
lines through the Wadden like after-
images of a sparkler; an electric
jellyfish. I want to paddle
alongside, trace its willy-nilly path.
But I watch it fade
into a fog, and descend into the cabin
where cards are being thrown,
where bottles of Shiraz and Hertog Jan
are being emptied, voices
swelling with the returning tide.

Alyse Richmond currently resides in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and is in the process of completing an M.F.A. in creative writing at Chatham University with concentrations in poetry, publishing, and travel writing. Her work has been featured in Welter, The Lincoln Underground, The Doctor T.J. Eckleburg Review, The Found Poetry Review, Lines + Stars, Helix Magazine and El Portal, among others.