SPRING 2013 (Issue 78)
 

Kara van de Graaf

Ode to Sea Scurvy

Creatures of the sea, our bones are wed to water, our teeth
make gifts of themselves. White hills of salt.
Away from land’s umbilical pull, sand-strangled grass
on the dunes, we become ourselves again.
Skin phosphoring against the sweat-varnished decks,
our thighs slimmed, petaled over with pink. And what miracles
radiate from our joints, make us forget brine of meat,
the festering shit. At night, in water’s cradle, our eyes sink
into themselves, gray as the flash of a silver coin.
All the old scars return, flower open like new wounds.