Weightless Inky the octopus went against type, crawled out of his tank, eager to flee, slid on the floor, slipped down a pipe, swam into the frothy welcoming sea. Alone on my last swim in the ocean, buoyant in the midday sun, I floated with a shimmering motion, my body rocking, life just begun. Moments lift us out of time and space, flash by despite endless wars: jitterbugging with jaunty grace, sleeping and talking under the stars, eating a peach and listening to bees in a gazebo in the hills of Tennessee.
Gaby Bedetti is a photographer, writer, teacher, and translator working in Lexington, Kentucky. Her work has appeared in Rhino, Puerto del Sol, World Literature Today, and other journals. She is circulating a co-translation of the poems of Henri Meschonnic, a writer who believed in language’s ability to dissolve borders.
Pulsebeat Poetry Journal 