Handful of Cockle Shells
Scrolling sand and tracing circles,
We’re writing novels with one finger until
The ocean sweeps in and spirits away our
Thoughts to read later.
We say cheers and clink together
A handful of cockle shells,
Longing to open one and pull out a fortune.
I said luck is a ghost crab.
You shrug an “Oh well.”
“Never mind that, we’ll wait for high tide.”
Instead we wait for the surge
Near a diamond shoal.
Blessing the dusky blue clouds, you
Tell me they match my eyes.
In weakness I smile and whisper,
“You mean stormy.”
You said love is a jetty.
I want to let the sea wash over me, but you
Point to the shore and we laugh at candy-
Colored coquinas, wiggling into the sand like
Shy children under salt water blankets.
You ask me to dance in the hurricane,
I ask “Can I stand on your feet?”
We spin like the air
While you hold me safe in the eye.
T. S. Poetry