Midsummer Dream House

 

Boy, Shark

You hurt women. It’s what happens. The man thinks
back to when he was a boy. Women filled that living room,
his mother off somewhere at work or in the kitchen.
Cousin, Auntie, Grandma. They watched him play,
amused especially by his shark-toy-phase.
Shark boy! Hey sharkie, one of the women teased
the man-to-be. I’m not a shark! I’m a boy.
he blabbed until a wily one grabbed him. The shark started
small and cute too. Like everything! How
do you know you won’t turn into a great white?
 
The boy went silent as if from the ocean’s depths
in narrowing upward spirals he circled
until he was just below the fishy-looking feet
of the women who were not his mother.
Their screams confirmed the fear he sensed
had taken his mother’s place. He wanted
to make the fear go away and thought he could
by coming closer and swallowing the fear whole.
The women screamed louder and kicked. Their flesh
caught on his canines. Through the inky red clouds,
he couldn’t see but felt the pieces of fear
drift down to where he idled, waiting to wake up,
the fear keeping him from opening his eyes.
 
How could this have happened? he thinks every time
after hurting a woman, as a boy opening his eyes
to the nightmare truth. It’s happened. He’s turned
into a great white
of a man.
 

Poetry by Shaun Anthony McMichael

 

 

 

Since 2007, Shaun Anthony McMichael has taught writing to students from around the world, in classrooms, juvenile detention halls, mental health treatment centers, and homeless youth drop-ins throughout the Seattle area. Over 90 of his poems, short stories, and reviews have appeared in literary magazines, online, and in print, including the forthcoming short story collection The Wild Familiar (Fall, 2024; CJ Press). He lives in Seattle with his wife and son. Visit him at his website shaunanthonymcmichael.com