Tell them to keep their eyes, their brawn, the tentacles of their need sticking to my skin.
Their bluff and bluster. Poisoned tongues saying thirst as spell, hips as prophecy.
I’m loomed together, stars pinned to my hair, waiting for my ship to come in. No water, but
a dress made of salt. The only blue—my pulse when I couldn’t get out of bed. My heart’s rough
gem, calcified, fossil of some long-ago feeling— shatter-ready and stubborn. Everywhere I splinter.
Everywhere they hold dominion....