Tideless

Dear one, do you know Lake Michigan
is considered tideless?

Scampering along the packed-sand shoreline,
did we even notice that the depth of icy water
slushing around our ankles stayed the same?

We played over wave-smoothed stones,
our parents, sitting at rough hewn picnic tables,
drank Blatz beer, munched on raw peas
fallen from trucks on the road to Terry Andrae.
Did they care that we tore up the dunes?
Did they notice?

I don’t remember finding shells—angel wing
limpet, mud shell, moon shell—like those
at the Jersey Shore. Do you?
I do remember tunafish sandwiches
and hardboiled eggs. Lakeflies.
Dragonflies. Skipping stones. Driftwood.
The long drive home in the back seat.
(I don’t remember that—I was asleep),
I do remember Daddy
lifting me from the car;
carrying me into the house.

My dear sister, what do you remember?

A Pushcart Prize-nominated writer, Gillian Nevers’ poems have appeared in several literary magazines and anthologies. Her chapbook, The True Story,(Fullers Windy Acres Farm Press) won second prize in the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets’ 2019 Chapbook contest. She was second prize winner in the 2008 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters statewide poetry contest and received an Honorable Mention in the Academy’s 2019 contest. Gillian lives in Madison, Wisconsin.