So, let me tell you a quick story:
My grandpa on my dad’s side came over from China when he was pretty young— grew up in Chicago. He was...
push off what seemed safe: The fishing dock,
pitch pines, children glazed to sheen
by ruthless summers. Past
the jetty, past the past, to open sea—
all violet and green, that choppy path between doom and luck—
Put your back into it, and row.
-April Bernard, from Romanticism