This starfish left a handprint in
the sand. I see your
tan hands that summer we went
to the Cape and you filled
our nights with tales of scallops
and fresh mussels. Noisy clams
played rhythm on their castanets
and lobsters danced flamenco on the
foam before they found their way to our
hotel bedroom made from jetsam
of the sea. There we
rocked the cradle through
the long dark shipnight
deep in the depths of its hold
where the constant pounding
waves were heard within our ark.
There I became the shell
with you curled inside me.
© Gay Reiser Cannon * 2011 * All Rights Reserved
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