Pearling

by Layla Lenhardt

I walk along the tide line with a pocket of tiny griefs.
The mollusks know what to do with theirs.
A grain enters the body, just a rumor of a harm,
and they answer slowly, patiently,
layering nacre until the wound shines.

I’ve never been that good at repair.
Every person I loved was a fragile harbor light.
Every time I tried to cup the flame
the wind came for me.
This is the quiet headline I keep rewriting:
There’s Not a Single Person I’ve Ever Loved
Who I Could Keep Safe.

Not from the sea.
Not from the night that keeps arriving.
and most certainly not from myself;
I am a shoreline that changes shape
each time the tide wants to feel something.

Layla Lenhardt is the author of Mother Tongue, Mainstreet Rag 2023. She has been published in Rust + Moth, Prairie Schooner, Pennsylvania Literary Journal and others. She has received her MFA from IU and is a gemologist and harpist.