Tara Deal



That panic of sadness

upon finding yourself

out in the ocean without

any help,

after the snorkel cruise has left,


comes over the flat in London

lost down the side street:

landlocked, yes, but still

more dark than safe


when the skyline turns violet

and green

and there's no hope

that this could be that


haven of a hotel room

made up to suit yourself

with the concierge offering oysters, even pearls, asking

where you've been, what happened,

     if you need anything


this evening in

     the smallest possible

               floating world.





Tara Deal is a writer and editor in New York City. Her poetry has appeared in magazines such as failbetter, Flyway, nthposition, and West Branch, and she is the author of the poetry chapbook Wander Luster (Finishing Line Press). Her novella, Palms Are Not Trees After All, won the 2007 Clay Reynolds Novella Prize from Texas Review Press. Find her online at