I told you
that I would show you,
and here it is:
the sea.
Frothing, foaming,
moaning.
Is it not everything
we imagined?
Life crawls, swims, side-walks
in these blue waters,
salty on the tongue
and full of shells.
Take a nautilus,
press it to your ear.
When you wander through
your next desert,
think of the sun caressing
your cheek and slowly
biting your nose,
leaving peeling pink skin behind.
Listen to the quiet lapping
the whistling call of gulls.
Maybe you will also hear
my voice again.
Photo by Shaun Low on Unsplash
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Published by Rachel Sandell
Rachel Sandell is a writer and editor from Washington State, where rainy days necessitate long books, hot chocolate, and plenty of magic. Though she specializes in speculative fiction and harbors a love for the dark and enchanting, she also dabbles in poetry and is the archive project coordinator for Fireweed: Poetry of Oregon. She is an MFA graduate from the Rainier Writing Workshop, and her short stories have appeared in SORTES magazine, Night Picnic Press, and Leading Edge magazine.
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Rachel Sandell 