J runs toward the sea with her mouth open wide
She’s ready to ride it till brine gets inside
She’s briefly knocked out, not even yet started
but she’s here for the day and not to be thwarted
The ocean has called her from subways and track rats
to dabble in magic of this sort and that tack
to try out her power, its methods unfolding,
to spar with her loneliness, ever embold’ning
“Not today, doubt,” she remounts the board.
It is her dominion and she is its lord.
The sea claims her again, but this time it laughs.
She’s drunk with exhaustion and kelp at her calf.
Expectations have shifted, J has no more pride.
The moon has whispered a scold to the tide.
And now all lies quiet for J’s very first ride.
Sensing her moment, she clambers on board.
It is her steed. She holds forward her sword.
She rides into a wave—it’s a monster uncaring
but in tune with its roar she is ever more daring!
It crests over her now, she is lifted and falling.
Held in suspension, to surf is her calling!