Portra by the Sea by Autumn Stiles

Oct 5, 2020
What of the fisherman skulks
            in your heart?
What husks of hull sit rusting
            ironed dull by sea over
sand over sea?
Luminescence at dawn
            eyes, richly changed – 
mussel shell
            wool-scrubbed, made blue
then bluer
by the bucketfulbe soft as i am soft
You who knows my body, knows my face in ways
            I do not know my face – 
I should have let you capture me, still wild
in hand		thrashing
under the focus of your great glass eye   but the blue, the blue, the blue
It hurt to see it 

Easier this – 	you
atop             	me
                        a drift
of dead wood.

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