Here in coastal California
A poem by Annie Stenzel

Here in coastal California

Didn’t I always revel in beach freedom? I recall a long fringe of white froth, a spent wave’s sibilant approach, then its more subdued retreat. Tide pools to meditate, complete with crabs prepared to scuttle—saving themselves from the menace of my hands. Today I do repent the wicked provocation of sea anemones during my youth. I knew no better than to poke their tentacles, mimicking a meal’s approach. Ignorant, but still mean. By rights I might have been minced into sustenance for Actiniae; part of my long history of oblivious injustice. But no one had told me (yet) my fingers’ murk and oil were poison to these creatures; that my touch made it harder for them to trap their prey. To strip cruelty of intentionality changes nothing, as other tiny life-forms crushed beneath my boots might say—or would if they had speech, and wished to communicate with their destroyer.

About the Author:

Annie Stenzel (she/her) is a lesbian poet who was born in Illinois, but did not stay put. Her second collection, Don’t misplace the moon, has just been published by Kelsay Books. Her poems have appeared Atlas and Alice, Chestnut Review, Kestrel, Night Heron Barks, Rust + Moth, Saranac Review, SoFloPoJo, SWWIM, The Lake, and UCity Review. She lives on unceded Ohlone land within walking distance of the San Francisco Bay.

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