I wonder what it’s like to be you, claws and all attentive only to a tidepool beneath this sky of-all-things I envy your pocketless-ness and the other folds you lack for collecting trepidations there is no malignancy of words in shallow water no dashed hopes no fickle dreams it’s just you — solitary — spinning with a sand swirl when the tide comes in expecting nothing of expectations — ERIKA SESHADRI
Erika Seshadri lives on an animal rescue ranch in Florida with her family. When not caring for tame critters or feral children, she can be found writing. Her work has appeared in Stonecrop Magazine, Burningword Literary, Funicular, Button Eye Review, Quibble Lit, Hare’s Paw Literary, Closed Eye Open, and others.