Emily Winters                                                                                                              

The Sea

Salt water seeping through my skin,

My leather pores open-close,

And the cleansing of the soul feels so good,

But the truth is stinging my cuts,

My burns…

Rubbing sand upon my wounds,

I thought that they would heal –

But my arms and legs (and heart and head)

Began to shrivel,

Running from me like a road to nowhere.

The way out,

Staring me straight in the face,

Its bloody socket daring my soul,

My nice and squeaky soul,

Tempting my fingers to twist in a bulb,

(cause doesn’t that face need some light?)

Pathways and alleyways,

With stray cats singing the blues,

Boots leaving footprints upon the heads of victims,

Those who dared to open their mouths,

To take a gulp of life,

To inhale the whole great big sea…

Yet the sea only wanted to devour me.