She walks into the sea,
Poem by Clare L. Martin   •   Photo by Sunny Williams

out of the sea, into the sea, swinging her taut arms. Casting the net, her hanging breasts are like soundless bells. She crouches on an outcropping of rocks holding the line. If the nets are empty, her children will feed on night—fill their mouths with clouds, devour stars. She shovels star lit pebbles with a bare foot. She faces the moon, pulling hard. She pulls to her chest, pulls with her back, her thighs, and the muscles of her neck. Her face is stiff with anger; she breathes and desperation breaks. The haul is large, glittering. Spiked fins slap her calves; she bleeds. Children gather for the slaughter.

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