Chloe N. Clark<\/p>\n
It is always the same stories that we tell
\nof women with fish tails and hair
\ncaught full of seaweed and we
\nnever remember how the feel
\nof water constant and pressing
\nmust have been. She saw
\nvillages overtaken by waves,
\nshe imagined constellations of star
\nfish, and when she wept it tasted
\nthe same as the sea and so she never
\nknew when she was actually sad.
\nHer fingers caressed the bones of sailors,
\ndrowned in storm or mutiny, and she
\nthought that men were only skeletons, and she
\nwondered how they danced, if they clicked
\nand clattered as they did. She fell in love
\nwith a shark once, but the shark left her
\nbehind, movement was life, forward was
\nbreath. She spent one morning watching
\nthe sky filter down to her and then she
\nwas given the choice between eternity under
\nand a moment with the sun. And in the
\nflash of dissolving, of filled with stars, of glow,
\nshe thought she remembered land, how it
\nwas to feel the earth turning beneath her
\nfeet, like dancing.<\/p>\n
CHLOE N. CLARK<\/b> is a MFA candidate in Creative Writing & Environment. Her work has appeared such places as Rosebud<\/i>, Abyss & Apex<\/i>, Menacing Hedge<\/i>, and more. She loves all chupacabras, bakes cupcakes, and likes learning odd facts about magicians. Follow her @PintsNCupcakes<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Chloe N. Clark It is always the same stories that we tell of women with fish tails and hair caught full of seaweed and we never remember how the feel of water constant and pressing must have been. She saw … Continue reading