Whipping (By Natasha Mijares)

Whipping You can feel the whip. The wind turns paddling Into a desperate crawl. Your weight shifts For action, frenzied By not knowing what it’s gonna be like When you’re wafted out into the water. You hold your breath As white caps turn black And the water slapping the boat calms into a slither. You sigh with a clean turn into a cove And the sun crowns the tops of the mangroves With its rosy descent. The sound of the paddle Slowing the boat Is like folding sheets and you sleep with Eyelids heavy And the sky blinks back at you.