Our ankles get wet. Our expectations. A sentence spills
on the break of my lip. Press it to your ear, rip-taut
surge. Words suction like sea stars, crimson falling
into the crevices. Lipstick stains on the corners
of maps mark the cardinal mistakes. Let them soak
into the dark places and bloom. Underwater,
our voices bore the waves, augering
into shattered shells, rooms half-broken.
The tide sucking in and the moon-wet gorgeous
give. Your hands are veiled with salt,
and mine stained with the crushed bodies
of shells: nautilus, conch, simple mussel.
Carapace pared; tendons and terms unstrung.
What remains: salt on a glistening tongue.
I work as a freelance writer in a variety of genres. I hold a BA in English from Pomona College and an MA in Journalism from the University of Hong Kong. My poetry has been published in the Beloit Poetry Journal, Cider Press Review, Notre Dame Review, InDigest, Quiddity, and others.