Weaving wake of water, waves
crave eclipse of your form, wings
folded you plow headlong toward
& then rebuff the swelling foam.
Your back a moon-mottled darkness;
your underbelly the spume, sidewinding
craquelure deposits along mercurial
foreshore on spindle-quick legs & semi-
webbed feet. I believe you to be, like me, tied
to the tide until for some reason, the approach
of wider wings or human beings or purely because
you can, you become brightness, pinions spanned,
breaking placable pattern. Your body—piercing
arrow—pearl-grey providence of purple sage
riding dusk’s descent into the promise of future
dawn and my own escape from shallow shores.
Melissa Nunez (she/her) lives and creates in the caffeinated spaces between awake and dreaming. She makes her home in the Rio Grande Valley region of South Texas, where she enjoys observing, exploring, and photographing the local wild with her family. She is a column contributor at The Daily Drunk Mag. She is also a staff writer for Alebrijes Review and Yellow Arrow Publishing. You can follow her on Twitter: @MelissaKNunez.