Sandra Beasley

Long John Silver’s

Once again at the Long John Silver’s of 1988
the rope-slung walkway seems to sway under my feet
as I look up at the Cape Cod with its steepled roof,
trimmed in yellow, and lean my whole weight
to the wrought-iron sword that serves as a door handle.
At the counter I order a fish filet
served in a folded paper Treasure Chest with
a handful of fries to hide the Secret Compartment,
hold the hush puppies, corn cob on the side,
carry the blue plastic tray with care to a booth
paneled in the mahogany of an officer’s quarters,
then sit on a bench vinyled like a nautical flag.
If you’re wondering why we’re here it’s because
here, nobody is dead yet. The batter is always
fresh and salted and fluffy with club soda,
my teeth cutting a smile into the Icelandic cod,
and perhaps I will go back to order a chicken plank
or a tray of crunchies swept from the fryer’s belly,
which they will usually give me for free.
When I look back on this life, I want
to be the person stubborn enough to found a chain
of Seafood Shoppes in Lexington, Kentucky,
five hundred miles from any ocean,
named for a character in a Scottish novel.
I want to admit I’m doubled over and howling,
yet reach up to ring the Captain’s Bell on my way out.

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Sandra Beasley is the author of Count the Waves, I Was the Jukebox (winner of the Barnard Women Poets Prize), Theories of Falling (winner of the New Issues Poetry Prize), and Don’t Kill the Birthday Girl: Tales from an Allergic Life, a memoir about living with disability. She lives in Washington, DC, and teaches with the University of Tampa low-residency MFA program.