SHUCKER

When’s  that  wet-mouthed  mosquito   crusher
coming back from the shoreline? Girl like a salt
trap,  thick vermillion  crab  clasped  dripping  in
the meat of her  roughhousing palms. Girl never
went  to  the  cities; made blistering sugar-thick
blueberry  jam  in the  winter. Exhaled  steam on
the   balcony   from   the   tropical   heatwave   of
heaving  lungs,  combed lice  from matted curls.
Girl  never  dies.  Where  is  she?  Out   shucking,
blade  tongue-kissing  the  razor-sweet edge  of
the  oyster,  flesh  oceanic  and  glistening. Grins
around  the pearl  like any  good sailor, swallows
it  whole, tiny moon the best  kept  secret  in the
stomach.   Girl  with  dissolving  anchovy   bones
splintered into the soft  pad of  tongue. The give
and  resistance, the  mealy marrow  of a  sardine
spine   between   tender   molars.  The  slip.   Girl;
milk-toothed    and    plum-wild    in    the   lactose
sheen of dawn.

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Reilly Loughlin was raised free-range in the Northern Rivers in NSW, Australia. They completed a Bachelor of Writing in 2024. You can find them in UQ’s Exordium issue 11, arguing the merits of fanfiction, Jacaranda Journal 11.2, or Blue Bottle Journal. They enjoy wooden floorboards, tinned tuna, and pushing their luck.