Molten candy peach nectar
streams over lips salty-
licked, pistachios shucked
on steep dunes, stoic veined
bookends, marble slipping
welcome into cotton gloves
worn by the waves. The sea
open tide all the way to Africa.
My spaces draw onto
creased linen, fried
rigid and crisp, curved
around your back, ripening
scuffed plum, jammy melting
fig, concentric echoing
caves. We long to be
worn smooth and soft
by the waves, damp
pretty rocks. We cling
to the sea and slivers
of shade trying.
Andrea Krause (she/her) lives in Portland, Oregon. Her work is published in: The Shore, Maudlin House, Autofocus, Kissing Dynamite, and elsewhere. You can find her on Twitter at @PNWPoetryFog.