A Seashell Tale
By Circe
1989
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Do not reproduce or distribute this poem without my express permission.
A seashell tale.
I hold mollusks, swirled, subtle and pink,
To the deserted convolutions of my ear.
And I hear our voices
Sighing,
Sifting muted through time.
Though I color my hair in mermaid shades,
I shiver,
Now afraid of the sea.
For,
Too long ago,
I think I conjured you.
Called you from the waves and foam,
Invoked you flesh and blood, from the
Thrashing salt and kelp,
Crying: Let me have love!
And you crept from the sea,
Slick and supple, the evolving of my will.
Still,
I could not hold you long,
Before biting your neck to taste my creation.
Proving my divinity in your salt-tears and blood.
And you ebbed like the tides I’d enchanted to essence,
Dissolved under kisses too careless and cruel.
Trying to own you is owning the ocean.
Constructing a lover is controlling the waves.
I would number each sand-grain to learn your forgiveness,
Whisper in seashells: I love you. Come home.
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