Unnamed

I saw a woman on a bench today—

            I memorized her.

            Every freckle I could see

            And every sigh that left her lips.

            I took them for my own.

I saw a nymph on a bench today—

            And I knew she knew

            Where Amelia Earhart

            Had gone.

            If anyone could know, she could know.

I saw a goddess on a bench today—

            And the world tipped to one side

            And left me groundless.

            Even time paused

            To wink at her

            Before continuing his work.

I saw a girl on a bench today—

            She left after saying “hello”

            And I didn’t want to follow. 

Clam

In the palm of his hand,

For his convenience,

Lay a clam.

Fissures and fault lines

Made up the map of her shell.

A smile was barely visible

As he crushed the shell inside his fist

Revealing the naked pink

Innards. He could almost see

Her shivering.

With a smirk

He tossed the mess to the ground. 

The Salt

The salt-sea

Breeze and the

Sea-salt spice

Make up most of the summer.

I watched a little red buoy hoist himself up up and up

Into the waves.

Tumble, tumble, head over toes,

Only to start the climb again.

His little journey

Is never-ever-ending.

I think I hear him calling

Over the rumble of the ride.

Nothing smells quite like

The sea-salted breeze

Or the faint, far off

Linger of a

Long-dead crab.

And how can I do anything

But lay like a stone,

While my skin starts to

Darken and my lips

Start to sting,

Until I can feel them crackling under my tongue.

Until I dissolve into the sea-salt waves.

Until I am the sea salt too.