Water’s Edge

March 26, 2018 Tori Stuart 0 Comments

Under the moonlight, the selkie dances
for the joy of shedding fat and fur
-for lithe arms and legs-
one last time.

Supervised by stars and bobbing brethren,
she follows the water’s edge to the house at the bottom of the cliff
carrying her pelt above her head
a trophy of patience –

children
with faces pressed to the window
wave to her and grin at her triumph,
apologizing for their father
and her husband
who sleeps peacefully
after plucking her freedom from the sandy shore

Up up up
she climbs
ignoring the pain in her bare feet as she reaches the top
-a horizon watched by one burning eye-
she laughs,
wrapping herself into a thick layer of blubber
and shivering,
she glances down at the churning white froth that
pleads along the rocks

gripping tight she jumps to where
the ocean is dark and cold;
plummeting
home