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Beached

It’s been six months since I’ve seen the old man. Today he shows up clinging to a walker. Struggling down the sand, he drops onto all fours and crawls into the ocean. After a slow backstroke, he crawls out. I’ve always kept an eye on this man. But this was too much. I introduce myself, maneuver him into my car, and demand “What time shall I pick you up for our morning swims?” Then I curse the lifeguard and beachgoers. May they swim with the fishes.

ninety-four years
remembering how
to tread water

About the Author

Stephanie Zeppherelli

Stephanie Zepherelli, a California native and former dance professor, has been living on Oahu the past forty years. She has a drawer full of mismatched spoons and a tribe of Madagascar gekkos. She was introduced to short-form poetry three years ago, and this is her first published haibun.


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