Writing

 

Primordial sea

This body suits you as a sack of skin

should. Although you liquefy under pressure

at least you don’t go to water. In

between––centripetal currents––fascia

hold you together like the sides of rock

pools keep the sea from claiming back its own.

Breakers wash, the sun dries you out, a flock

feasts upon these offerings you have grown.

 

But how long before the shoal forgets the sea?

In the cool shallows of isolation

only dreams of being swept from solitary

pools remain. A tidal undulation,

ebbing memory of the ocean’s salty clutch,

as the waves roll in and drown you in their touch.

(originally published in Mary 1)