Girls’ Trip Sestina

EMILY MORRIS

Written during our Poetry workshop. I don’t normally write poetry, but I like puzzles, and sestinas are like a puzzle. Generation F is about the power of femininity and its untapped potential that has yet to be expressed in its full range of possibility. With that in mind, I aimed to capture a few feelings: the tune of the ocean, the malleability of time, and the pleasure of female friendship.

Traveling a winding road in the company of women

Will always lead to a wistful surf

We disrobe in the middle of the night

Together, unself-conscious in the tradition of girls.

Even in winter we will find a way to swim,

Warmed by spirits and the spontaneous drive

That spurred us on in the first place to get in the car and drive,

Our bags packed with comforts because we are women

It is always necessary to bring a suit for swim

As necessary as the lapping surf

That awaits us friends, us girls

Who have uttered secrets in every season at night

It is easier to speak straight, forward into the night

Whether looking out upon waves or still on the drive

Illuminated by traffic lights in the backseat as if girls,

Speaking officiously to their families, practicing to become women.

We screech and shout, our voices dissipating into the frothing surf—

It receives us as we dunk our heads and decide to swim.

Every time I’ve felt God has been during a swim

Or after, at dusk, as golden hour seeps into night

The black-haired girls drag silently from the sea toward the surf

And try not to think of when we’ll need to drive

Home, soon, away from this respite of women

A steady moving stream of sex and death and birth. Girls,

All the concerns of girls

Contemplating them with closed eyes as we swim

And float, we contemplate if we are yet women

Or if when we are them we’ll still tell the truth at night

Will we be resculpted by a different route or drive

Will we still dare in the cold to run directly to the surf

Or will we no longer hear the surf’s metronome

Will we have no time to remind ourselves that we are girls

Untouched by the idea of hustle, obligation, or drive

Dedicating our bodies to the virtue of swim

And the places we go together at night

And the divinity of women buoyed by women

Girls become women like the slap of a dive

Blue swims remind us of what we are at night