see her fall
2021, Junior, Poetry & Spoken Word
hear the sweet melodies she sings of the quiet waves.
see the touseled hair resting on her shoulders, hidden
by the blue cloak. watch how she wades through the
stepping stones, the white bodies of ice that float
through her garden. touch the roses of salt that grow
in clusters on the fences. smell the fragrances of the
salty air, aromas spread by each flower, carried by the
infinite spreading of the ocean wind.
feel the silk paint that rests through the sea in perfect gradient
hues. watch her wrinkle each cloth, touch each corner in the
perfect sheen of blue-green. see her swimming. walking with
light footsteps on each step, each stone, each pathway.
look at each creature she cherishes. watch with your own eyes how
she loves the dolphins she rides across the waves, the minnows
she escorts in tiny groups, the seaweed she carefully lets a
slither of sunlight in.
see her walk.
watch the sunlight spread, golden rays waxing from soft
warmth to deadly heat. watch as the glacier stepping stones wane
under her feet, pouring in chilling waters across the garden. watch
the waves expand, the blue cloak falling above her head. see her fall,
tripping into the trenches of her garden. listen to the polar bears
stranded on one path, “under construction” signs blocking them from
going home. listen to the seagulls as they suffocate, their beaks tied
in the same plastic bags stranded up in their stomachs.
feel the paint melt onto the edges of her skirt, turning the
ocean into a ghostly blue. hear the inaudible screams of the
crabs as they’re torn apart, the salvageable parts of them
washed up onto the burning sand. listen to the invisible,
unseen fire melting inside the core; and feel her skirt torn
at the edges, discolored in the center, and rising with
the burning fire and vengeful wind.
see her fall.