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.