The evening my mother’s second marriage died, she held her daughters' hands in the ocean and exhaled the habits of a wife – infidelity has no taste buds
..........the night before, my mother stuffed faith and submissiveness into turkey and beat them twice, groomed my stepfather's cheeks after dinner stopped being dinner and became repast.
The only thing I miss about Florida is the ocean at dawn when the water blends in with the sky, and I can feel the minnows tickling my calves and my mother’s grip tightening as we sway together for the last time.
Amber Moss is a writer and editor from Atlanta. She holds a bachelor's degree in English from the University of South Florida. Her latest chapbook, Some Kind Of Black, was released in February 2022 from Nymeria Publishing. Her poetry has been published in Bewildering Stories, Little Rose Magazine, Liminality Magazine, Poetry Super Highway, and others.