Beach combing for Sea Glass After Chemotherapy - Carrie Hunter

White crested banners of Poseidon,

Drape the nerves,

Of peat moss sand,

Lick the source,

Of all stature,

Our pebbled feet could afford,

Ladle cup shell natives,

Fold small grooves in our soles,

Tenderizes the gender of our conflict,

As my spirits fatigue,

Drew beige roman blinds,

Haunted by sun spot specter,

Across my eyes,

There was gold,

Chiseled,

In the helix of your Atlantic iris,

As you held the sea branded,

Geometric candy,

To the mirror of your pupil,

Scratched thatched,

Land of Caribbean,

I imagined,

You placing it upon my tongue,

As one accepts the body of Christ,

At communion,

The raw whorls,

Of what once ended,

The healthful fingers,

Of my youth,

Charm their paths,

Through the wreckage,

Of the lowest tide,

Extracting there,

In thick contrast of shape,

The darkest blood,

Of Nordic green spruce,

Exacted in excess,

By wet hunger,

Caught within,

Spring rains aspiring downpour,

The curtains of my eyes malaise,

Open,

Upon the achievement of my resolve,

The small pierce of color,

Upon the disparity of my skin,

I have learned a craft,

Been absolved,

Swallowed you,

And became,

Times fragment,

A hunter of forgotten pieces.

---

Carrie Elizabeth Hunter is currently living in the town of Sandwich in Cape Cod, MA. She is a graduate of Southampton College of Long Island University. Carrie has formal training as a writer and has been writing poetry and short stories since the age of nineteen. Two pieces of her work were recently published in the online April and August 2018 issue of The Esthetic Apostle. One of her poems was also recently featured in A Rose For Lana, a column from the online literary journal Medium.