I know you have your other life,
Seashell,
But I love you, and I’m tired,
And quite awful, so go back into the
Waves and keep quiet
Loving your husband as you should,
Until I’m quite ready for you,
And once I’ve saved upon enough money
For poems,
And soft fireworks,
And French juxtapositions tight against your
Unassuming body, then I’ll come for you
Again crying out loudly in a class
That I shouldn’t care,
And taking you in your entire body,
Carefully offsetting your children,
Kissing your lips like a religious crèche in the
Parking lots of the rain,
While my dogs scratch at doors wanting to get
Out into the tall grass and mark the territory
While the weather is still fair and you have
Very little at all or nothing to say to me….
Sharon,
Seashell….
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful in every way.