Here

As the ocean reaches out to me

the sand escapes and flows over my toes 

and I dig them deeper, the coarseness soothes.

And I realize there is something so simple 

about the amniotic water lapping in and out

of the mouths of clams.

The ocean reaches further, she wraps around

the bare skin of my feet and I curl my toes

but the saltwater is cold and the tide is strong.

I was not born here,

but I see a womb in the cluster of mussels

on the side of a dilapidated fishing boat.

I was not born here,

but here I am.