by Elianna Genevieve
here’s savannah bay, the apple-pink
mooring ball, the great bear spinning above us
eleven-hundred miles to the woman in the panhandle house
your steadfast wife and her arrow of a heart
there’s a half-hitch bind us merry three
at the hands and at the tongue
here is salt island:
you sieved a hermit crab from the brine
life was a puzzle and the answer was not us
the painted plates were cracked
and these islands rocked themselves to sleep
the men were there,
so you said
so I heard when the liquor was too
strong. the women ducked and cowered in
their airs
I loved you as the reef loves a mooring line
Elianna Genevieve sketches and studies religion. She is originally from Schenectady, New York.
Hawaii Pacific Review 