I’d forgotten how murky it is how tricky the descent into my old single
bed the curl of my body alone the dust I am polite with breathing slower
the salt-thick air a reunion bathing in the tub slick with ghosts
like dissolves like I am the sum of what I never said a boundary a blood blister
my quiet purpling heart believed in spirits but not imaginary friends
bayside I’d pull anemones off of rocks and kiss them I am what I once pretended
to be still to be feminine to cure my bloated body with heavy blue
dress up in deep fluid same tide different liquid admiring the confidence of abalone
I wish I could open and close for you wrinkly and flexible with brine
lonely bones even for an only child still ghosts should do just fine
Ariel Kusby is a poet, journalist, and bookseller based in Portland, Oregon. Her writing has previously appeared in Entropy, Bone Bouquet, Pith, Hunger Mountain, and Luna Luna Magazine, amongst others. To read more of her work please visit http://www.arielkusby.com.
