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Writer's pictureAmy Frank

Deity of the Sea


I am like the earth,

a molten core burns inside of me,

hidden

by day old cosmetics.

When I looked into the mirror

I saw a siren guiding me,

her eyes reflected a world to be.

***

Dusty pinks that fade to grey,

scabs and scars like moon craters

across the earth —

my face.

Benzoyl peroxide dripping down

to bleach my arid flesh.

Forcing a flood

That erupts in steam

from inside my vocal chords.

Pocketing your name

in the cliffs

like treasures buried in the sand.

Where when the sea drifts

it unleashes them,

foaming with the milky head of a beer.

This is where I drink

my longing into sanity.

In the barren cliffs

is where the siren leads me.

Parched I become, from the stale martini,

the tides funneling out

as if to follow the moon.

Scampering across the sand dunes.

The strata forming layers

of my days gone by,

exposed in the great canyons,

forever I lie —

Peeled of my flora and fauna.

My soul etched in the layers

of sediment

that shield my burning core.

***

Brush away the bones

and the fossils

in the dirt

and press me in-between

the pages

of the scrapbook.

Suspended in the shallows

where the light can still reach,

is where the sirens cradle me.

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