HORSESHOECRABS - Amanda Boyanowski-Morin

Seventh grade I learned of Virginia Woolf. A kindred -

For I have always carried beach stones in my pocket.

Small and smooth, never enough to drag me down, just enough

to keep me from floating away.


I feel saltwater pulling through my veins.

First full moon of Summer, I count the horseshoe crabs

as they skuttle and mate along the shore. My claws burrow,

settle into the sand, ground from ancient mountain range,


my compound eyes become suited for salt flats,

lose the horizon of craggy buildings.

Until the tide turns black, I linger -

until the crabs return to the deep – until someone who loves me pulls

me back to land, says, Come. I follow; part of me stays.


Every year I lose more iron in my blood.

It turns to copper and becomes milky blue.

My spine is fracturing, ribs harden into a carapace.

Turning ancient, more aware of the tides.


On my walks I grab heavier stones to tether myself to the water

Every summer, the echoes of my loved ones

a language I less understand.

 

Amanda Boyanowski-Morin is a poet, wanderer, parent, partner and knitter. She is learning to live life differently with her service familiar, Rowan, a poodle, and finding her way in a world increasingly challenging to navigate. Her work focuses mainly on the body and it's relationship with Nature.

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