What can you do
When your mother states
“You’re on the shelf,
Past you... [+]
On the seashore
Sure, she sells these
But does she see the shore?
Or only the shells in her sandy hands
Bleached by the sun’s toothy smile
Yet colored in comparison to the pale sea
Oh did she but see the sea
Poseidon’s trident would oft strike her heart.
She longed for his balmy, reposeful caress
The cool waves shaking their foamy heads
How she did wish to have seaweed for hair
Corals for eyes
And sea shells for ornate breasts
And the skin of mermen many
Draped as lowly hung skirts on slender, scarlet hips
Their murmurs drumming rhythmically
In the heart of her seashells
“Dear sea shells,
Would you not whisper to me?
And tuck my soul into the shell of the sea?”