The American Journal of Poetry
"Strong Rx Medicine"®


Caitlyn Curran

My sister was a fish, and air


could not sustain her. She was caught up out
of the world for a moment, seized algaeic on the line,

thin and blue spitting up sea green foam— gasping more
water, more morphine, crushed Oxy on wrinkled scales

of tin-foil. A punch to the chest brought her back, tossed
her into the warm polymer water she breathed in

through a straw or hollowed pen. The surface of the water,
fissures hardening with chill. She thought of this

as just another hook in her cheek, a small scar.
This can happen after so much swimming.



CAITLYN CURRAN lives in Moscow, Idaho where she teaches English Composition and writes toward an MFA in poetry at the University of Idaho. She serves as the current Marketing Editor for the literary journal Fugue. Her recent work can be found in: Hubbub, Miramar, Spectrum, Silk Road Review, and elsewhere.



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