A tidepool never stops to rest

The water tells me to partake in its meditation, tells me we are of kindred salt

daughter, she croons, even the periwinkle snails add to the eddies

And I take that as an invitation

to make my nest beside the mollusks

I laugh at the sea and its repetition

evening tide, I ask, does not the beach

tire of the clockwork – its metronome master?

She falls to kiss my toes in response

Inside a rock pool so many strangers preen themselves for my sole viewing

admire our multiplicity, our closeness – how could you ever know us all

And I am amazed at the failings of our own biology

I long to take on the algae’s form and give myself to brine

lady, clicks the beach crab, where does it come from, this loudness you carry?

Later in the bath I’ll listen while my fingers prune,

and taste salinity on my skin.

This poem was originally published in Paragon Press in Aug. 2019.