By Shianne Henion

I am clay in your hands,

the curl of the ocean,

I am

gravel and

moss and


picked by those same nails

that dug into soft white flesh-

formed it into a creature of

c u r i o s i t y

Eyelashes glued to my mouth, I felt

the pull of it, the crunching pebbles

making it hard to talk, dolphins

that cocooned themselves under

my diaphragm, felt the points

of their fins when I breathed,

what had I

become except the

very thing you made



The object of loathing, too much

wonder and not enough

submission. Not enough i'm sorry's,

I felt you mess with

My hair, restructure the

placement of my nose &

my chest was held

up by clams,

but those eyes

Staring solemnly into mine, never did

you thank me for saving you. Just kept building

me and starting over, twisting my hair into knots

before you chopped it off,

Draining the sea from the tips of my toes when

you saw enough,

I shriveled onto a bed of coral, waiting for you to

do it again.

I never knew what I looked like.


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