THE BEACH HOUSE
my conch shell knees still clank together
like some vintage enamelware pots
now lost and rusted in a beach house
and sometimes I breathe easy, forget
the years of tide, catching breath on shore
the rash where the chain dents my ankle
bones waiting, a ribbon through my ribs
keeping score ’til I’m pulled back under
4 thoughts on "THE BEACH HOUSE"
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What luscious images and sensations, beautifully strung together. Mesmerizing!
That’s an amazing compliment. Thank you! ❤️
You had me at “my conch shell knees.” What a surprise of a description!
Thank you so so much!