The Sea

The sea at its brimming, the sea at its best. A child invents a wave; its mercy at her splashing, yet it roars.

She makes sandslop, spreads it on her feet. She plants herself, but in the waves, she shifts. She demarcates invasions.

She fashions a disc and uses it to start a dance.

“That’s not how you start a dance,” he tells her.

“It is too, I’ll show you,” she says, leaving pools as she steps.


About abi nighthill

Abi has a BA in Poetry from Columbia College Chicago.
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