Selkie

by Brigit Truex

Lying in your arms, after,
I see the moon change shape
letting her light spill over the lip,

brushing the hills, round
as belly or breast,
with a milky sheen that no
amount of rubbing, no slow
tongue can remove.

You tell me that I am silvered too,
with a fine sweat that tastes of salt,
you say, of seawater. That my hair is
dark as wet kelp, and heavy to lift.
It has the weight of the sea,
you say. You hear the thrum of tides
when you listen, close, to my heart.

I watch your head on my breast,
the ceaseless rise and fall
of heart and sea, at once the same,
without volition, unstoppable.
I cannot speak. I cannot tell you

how I am called back, again and again,
to these arms, this embrace which
welcomes me wetly, pulls me down,
caressing my hair, my face, my open
mouth as I gasp, delighted, gazing back
at the moon as she changes shape
once more, tilting toward the surface
and flooding me with silver.

I dive deep, sleek in my rich brown skin.
Wait for me on the shingle.
Watch for me in the dark.

© Copyright Brigit Truex

After living in various parts of the country, Brigit Truex left California’s Sierra Nevada mountains for the flatter, milder section of Kentucky’s Blue Grass plateau. With a heritage of First Nations (Abenaki/Cree), French Canadian and Irish, it is no surprise that the natural world has greatly influenced her poetry. Her work has been included in various international journals and anthologies, including About Place, apt, Yellow Medicine Review, and others. She was finalist for both the Locked Horn Press prize and Hopper Journal Prize. Her latest collection, Sierra Silk, is available on Amazon. Her website is booksandsuchbybrigittruex.wordpress.com.



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