A girl among hundreds
of sand dollars upright, swaying
in lapping waves. Urchins
coated in magnetic shavings the color
of bruise. Pliant, like fontanelle.
A tiny barnacle, its feathery legs
sift the sublittoral ripe
with nutrients. Umbilical
gills, seafoam gurgles. At home
among blennys, gobies, sculpin.
I smell the goose in my pillow,
my swollen breasts aflame.
This time, stay with me.
of sand dollars upright, swaying
in lapping waves. Urchins
coated in magnetic shavings the color
of bruise. Pliant, like fontanelle.
A tiny barnacle, its feathery legs
sift the sublittoral ripe
with nutrients. Umbilical
gills, seafoam gurgles. At home
among blennys, gobies, sculpin.
I smell the goose in my pillow,
my swollen breasts aflame.
This time, stay with me.
Jane Rowen was born in Manchester, England, and lives in Southern California. She practiced securities litigation defending claims of large scale financial fraud and insider trading, and then became an enforcement attorney for the Securities and Exchange Commission.
©2024 Volume Poetry
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