By Shianne Henion
I am clay in your hands,
the curl of the ocean,
I am
gravel and
moss and
peonies
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
me
?
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.