As We Walk on the Beach: a Pantoum
Maren Spangler Young Writers Issue | Poetry, Winter 2025
There’s a blackbird in the ocean, down feathers.
Dad, the bird, a baby bird. Help it
help it help it. You say it’s dead.
And I watch it float past, corpse. Can we bury it?
Dad, the bird, a baby bird.
Let it rest with the sand and the sea turtle eggs.
We watch it float past. Corpse. Can we bury it?
It drowned and you watched.
Let it rest with the sand and the sea turtle eggs.
Teach them about death before they make it to the water.
It drowned and you watched.
You’re letting it float past, watery feathers.
Teach them about death before they make it to the water.
Dad, why didn’t you help?
You’re letting it float past, teary feathers.
You’re getting old. I don’t want to bury you.
Why didn’t you help?
I worked so hard to swim.
You’re getting old. I don’t want to bury you.
Dad, I need your help—
I worked so hard to swim.
It’s really deep and I’m not made for this.
Dad, I need your help.
There’s a blackbird in the ocean.
______________________________________
Why is this piece your Trace Fossil?
“This poem is my Trace Fossil because I think it identifies the feeling of losing someone who isn't gone yet. My intention with this piece was to show the desperation that occurred when I realized I’ll have to bury my dad, but also my eventual anger with him. On the surface, this poem is just a memory of a day at the beach when we unfortunately saw a dead bird in the water, but its purpose was to describe the anxieties of knowing one will outlive one's parents.”
Maren Spangler (age 16) is a junior creative writer at the School of the Arts in Charleston, SC. Spangler has been writing fiction and poetry almost her entire life, and plans to go to college for neuroscience.
As We Walk on the Beach: a Pantoum
Maren Spangler | Young Writers Issue | Poetry, Winter 2025
There’s a blackbird in the ocean, down feathers.
Dad, the bird, a baby bird. Help it
help it help it. You say it’s dead.
And I watch it float past, corpse. Can we bury it?
Dad, the bird, a baby bird.
Let it rest with the sand and the sea turtle eggs.
We watch it float past. Corpse. Can we bury it?
It drowned and you watched.
Let it rest with the sand and the sea turtle eggs.
Teach them about death before they make it to the water.
It drowned and you watched.
You’re letting it float past, watery feathers.
Teach them about death before they make it to the water.
Dad, why didn’t you help?
You’re letting it float past, teary feathers.
You’re getting old. I don’t want to bury you.
Why didn’t you help?
I worked so hard to swim.
You’re getting old. I don’t want to bury you.
Dad, I need your help—
I worked so hard to swim.
It’s really deep and I’m not made for this.
Dad, I need your help.
There’s a blackbird in the ocean.
________________________________________________________________________
Why is this piece your Trace Fossil?
“This poem is my Trace Fossil because I think it identifies the feeling of losing someone who isn't gone yet. My intention with this piece was to show the desperation that occurred when I realized I’ll have to bury my dad, but also my eventual anger with him. On the surface, this poem is just a memory of a day at the beach when we unfortunately saw a dead bird in the water, but its purpose was to describe the anxieties of knowing one will outlive one's parents.”
Maren Spangler (age 16) is a junior creative writer at the School of the Arts in Charleston, SC. Spangler has been writing fiction and poetry almost her entire life, and plans to go to college for neuroscience.
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