There are western waves
Like slow rolling sadness
That churn and make
Their way to me
As careful creeping foam
The leading edge
Of a gentle bay for brining me
I am pieces of shattered shell
I am porous and pointy
I am littered with slick
Unspoken spikes
I am not yet ground smooth
Or cleared complete by hand
Or time
I am not like those others
More popular and pleasing
Compacted sandy eastern coasts
I can hurt uncalloused heels
Wear your shoes please
When you walk on me
Gather up my pretty parts
The seemingly whole shards
If you will for your collection
But pay attention
There are craters along my shore
Lines and tiny fractures
In the bulk of me
Where air resides in spaces
Between pieces yet unseen
To shift and twist and break
An unassuming speedy ankle
Yet if you might pause
A quiet moment, sit with me
Put your bucket down
I think you’ll see
Those spaces also cradle
Warm and teaming tide pools
A lineage of anceint life
Left in me by that crying sea


~ by April on January 20, 2019.

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