Back to Winter 2026

I Envy You, Marsh

Sophia Mandrier | Young Artists Issue | Poetry, Winter 2026

Wind carries the smell of pluff mud; 

spinning around chocolate cattails, 

sending clumps of seeds into the reeds. 

Terracotta crabs dance on your sun blistered

surface and cobalt blue dragonflies zip around, 

slicing through golden god rays. 

You enclose upon the filthy rocks, 

slopping the dusty surface in umber

pluff, just to pull away hours later 

in with the silvery moon, 

tides changing with the seasons. 

Its inconsistency intertwines with the

ecosystem, only interrupted by relentless

hurricanes. 

So it comes in floods? 

that feeling, unwavering. 

The constant need for something you can’t

have, almost as certain as the rising sun. 

Lab women shift glasses up their

noses and stumble over my name, 

reciting my last positive test. 

Cup lids screw, and results waiver over

me like a constant threat 

An unwanted part of my ecosystem, 

Relentless and fierce. 

And I’m still here envious 

Envious of the way you still look

perfect; Cracked and dusty,

sweltering in heat. 

Of the way everything moves with

you, and not at you.

______________________________________

Sophia Mandrier is 16, and attends School of the Arts in Charleston, SC.