I’m in the land where folks celebrate death, realizing that it’s merely part of the cycle. Grinning, bedecked skeletons hang from every corner, and bedsheet ghosts waft from trees and doorways. Spooky music emanates from bars and groceries alike, and sugary treats are placed on altars for the dead, along with flowers and candles.
A few weeks ago, I swam over two large white stingray bodies on the ocean floor, about two feet in diameter. Their souls had became part of the Great Sea, and a few fish took sustenance from their stark and beautiful discards. That’s how I want to go, gently sinking to the seabed, food for all.
In the meantime, I tell the nibbling fish that are interested in my calves, “Not yet.” I still want to watch seahorses in the wild, hear more baby whales, gather the courage to swim with dolphins, and surf with seals. It’s a big wide wonderful world we live in, and this stretch of the Gulf of California astonishes every single day. This morning golden eyes greeted me from a stout cream and chocolate, intricately designed puffer.
“See anything good?” beachwalkers ask me when I emerge.
Oh yes. Most definitely yes.
Pumpkin*
for Maureen
Shivering orange light
— circle, heart, sliver
Suppose she gets the card
burnt in shards of squash
Hallowe'en postal service:
no charge to communing witches
*from the forthcoming book of poems and paintings, Dance First, Ask Questions Later
essays by shé 
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