“—get on all fours
and let me open the floor of you. Let me
break your case and tie you to the sky
from behind, stretched hide in a circle.
Let me thunder drum under you until
it hurts and you burst into pebbles.
I promise to catch every piece and
hold them out to lightning so bolts can
blast you back together. You feel that
fulgurite? Evaporated mammal sweat
and grey blue breath of morning pouring
forward? You smell that melting sand?
I noticed you’ve been needing something
missing, I’ve been there before. You taste
that pivot point? That fulcrum taking turns
both fast and slow? Don’t be embarrassed
by your clacking shells, can’t you smell
the fingers of first light on our horizon?
Let me linger on your shoulder bruise
bloom purple blush and boulder for you
what I see you can’t contain yourself,
I see you holding burdens on the banks
of other shores so I bought a one-way
ticket to the bottom of your world. I meant
to ask but got distracted by the movement
of your curls and the mollusk mark you
musk me with,
I meant to say—”
Eleanore Tisch has lived many lives, worn many hats, and swam through many waters. She is a poet and educator, born and raised in Chicago. She has a BA in Writing & Literature from the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa University, and an MA in Education Foundations, Policy, and Practice from the University of Colorado at Boulder. Her chapbooks Salad Box Poems and Water : Write : Wave can be found at Bottlecap Press and Dancing Girl Press, respectively. She is currently working towards her MFA in Creative Writing and Environment at Iowa State University.