The endless summer’s sun
feeds our myths of the green flash,
until I lose count of the hours I drive
and wait for day to wade into the sea,
only to drive home in isolating darkness.
Sometimes, or whenever possible,
I focus on this endless winter,
how impossible tastes of golden apples
bright as channel markers in Mobile Bay
or as boat fires distracting from coastal stars.
Sometimes, or whenever possible,
I remember not to blame myself for pretending
I could hold constellations on my tongue
just like everyone else, just like any healthy person
is welcome to each night all over our country.
When I walk to the waterline at dusk
and the horizon does not flashbulb
into its night sky, I scoop seafoam
to listen to the amber bubbles pop
as if they were a champagne sizzle.
Kristin Entler was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis at 6 months old, and first came out as LGBT+ several years after her diabetes diagnosis at 12 years old. She currently serves as Poetry Editor for NELLE. Entler’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in publications such as The Bitter Southerner, Hobart, Gulf Stream Literary Magazine, and Poet Lore, among others.