What the conch spoke
when she was lost
in sea dunes with only the bite of sun —
it echoed from its pink chamber.
Let the tide take him. The sky,
the ocean is broad,
begs for your surrender.
Ahead of you, brine, green-blue
water, a tern held up by nothing
but its own feathers.
Suspended on wind, the alchemy
of your life
to fall in love with.