by Kate Porch
So I dig my heels into the sand and lean back,
letting the waves fold around my skin,
and I tell them they can take everything.
I will unlearn all I have to lose.
To be real is to be breakable,
so I let the sea make me imaginary,
infinite, holy.
She melts my legs into one another
like a sandcastle washed into the shore,
scales rise from under my skin
like tiny bruises.
I devour the rolling kelp forests
till my skin greens,
and sharpen my teeth on fish bones,
till I become the stuff of children’s dreams
and men’s nightmares,
and forget I am anything but the sea
swelling beneath the moon.
Kate Porch (she/her) is a poet born and raised in South Florida in a family of seven. She holds a BA in creative writing from the University of Central Florida and currently lives in Bangkok, where she works as a kindergarten teacher. Her work has been nominated for Best of the Net and Best Spiritual Literature, and has been featured in Ghost City Review, Redivider Journal, Miniskirt Mag, and The Swamp Ape Review, among other magazines.
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