Shells

Let her grime raw self-portraits sit and be
In the scraps of words and smashed persimmon
Distant humming, unbearable longing
Her arms shake praying for the painful strength
Her void, her locket of dreaming between her fingers
Child rocking on the ocean floor
Mama, sister, lover, goddess; I do believe in faeries
Like I believe in wise tress shrouded in mist
Like kaleidoscopes of shattered laughter and sticky Popsicle fingers
Burning bright, she forgets who you are
In shadows she motion through blown glass
My ring of fire is as cold and unforgiving as the sea

Her tiptoe awakens the accordion staircase
Sitting cross-legged and eating shelled roses
Her breakfast lunch dinner and midnight binge
“Ladies rise, and throw your shells into the garden”
Twittering white fuzz descends through the patio