Photo by Susan Wilkinson
Sea Light Language
Stephanie Jones
A spider releases
its minnow. A world plunges
into aqua peach. Swirling
clouds of
marine salvation. She
flashes steel. Legs outstretched
submerging stillness. Waiting
for another
silver passenger lost
in the current.
When we
become sea glass
and lose our
tongues
what will we use for
words? We’ll grieve salt and
bitter brine.
Shed pity for
knowing.
Lustering new each
night under the
next cold-blooded moon.
Stephanie Jones
A spider releases
its minnow. A world plunges
into aqua peach. Swirling
clouds of
marine salvation. She
flashes steel. Legs outstretched
submerging stillness. Waiting
for another
silver passenger lost
in the current.
When we
become sea glass
and lose our
tongues
what will we use for
words? We’ll grieve salt and
bitter brine.
Shed pity for
knowing.
Lustering new each
night under the
next cold-blooded moon.