JEAN JANICKE

Some advice from the sea spirit

When I want to feel the earth’s embrace
I inch up through the wetlands’ scalp
to brush the soft-stemmed grasses,
or recline in the lap of earth’s crust
feel her plates shifting under my shoulders
the hot breath from her core on my belly.

But that art is lost on shore. Few whisper
dreams and confessions into my waves
anymore. Some suspend
over their day like frigatebirds,
others retreat
into pearlescent shells.

Come to my coast, and I will cast
a spell to suture souls. Look into
tidal pools to see the one who mirrors
sunset hues at the horizon. I will
crash fireworks spray above the rocks,
press droplets in your palm
like an archipelago of fingertips.