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May 2012
I fold inward by the window all morning,
curled over the conch
I hold pressed to my chest like a child.

It is mine in the dark--
This Pale Sea. It whispers to me.
It says: a shell, a shell, a shell....

Then the shipwreck--
The Mist.
Oars rattle like bones.

Pink smooth ghost,
I am in love.

But our ship has sunk.

I am already a slug,
a salt, a crustacean.

                                                
                                        K.D. Mann
Kevin Mann
Written by
Kevin Mann  Asheville, NC
(Asheville, NC)   
955
   victoria and hannah way
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