here, you can take the girl

out of the eastern shore was never a thing i claimed, like you
claimed salt water and fishing
pier. every small vessel carries weight

implied by the wet white ropes, the cage, your body⎼⎼ the fetch
finds me, barefoot when it calls, covers me
in a million tiny diamonds, divided

rocks, minerals, quartz. everyone knows this. i know this: feldspar
comes from glaciers. this means we were made in ice, this means these small
pebbles traveled farther than you. it also means:

every grain of sand (no matter its beginning) that ends
in my bed becomes your body. every body
of salt-and-reed, every wind shift, every

hint of this sulfur and sodium, you are
this ocean, this is home, here. you are
tidal, the pull.

---

Melissa Marsh is a writer and photographer. Her written work has appeared in Sink Hollow, Asterism, The Scarab, and elsewhere. Her photography has appeared in The Shore and more can be found on instagram: instagram.com/autumnandravens.