Christina McGinnis
Trembling in your elbows picked up from my chair
you held me in the saltwater
smiling through the ripples and blue
I let the crabs tickle across the cracks
of my toes, let the seaweed waltz
around my ankles
the sun spat its rays upon my face
trapping me like a ladybug
climbing up the glass
to the lid
and falling down
over and over again
I felt like the bitter brown of the apple
the core, and I, the seeds
spit into the garbage, the little black
anonymous bug flung carelessly off
of the round of the cake
the ant walking absentmindedly on an errand
and stopped
by the cold black arrow
of a busy woman's shoe
I used to drive to the water, hands on
the hot rigid plastic, turning and blinking
tapping my polished fingers on the felt opening
my mouth and breathing out the words
raising the volume
stretching my mouth wider
for laughing children and morning motorists
who thought I couldn't see
Water reflected off my smooth black shades
shadows of dimpled sunbathers in overstretched
self-conscious faded flowers tiny beige crystals
sweet as brown sugar
pressed against the soft sandal slim
crevices of my hot summer skin
I always thought of the seashells,
their insides as pink and slippery
as a newborn baby's gums
I wondered if the owner put up a For Sale
sign,
waited by the phone patiently
with his
coffee and toast
or if he finally crawled out, hopelessly and buried
his grey stomach and left his claws
peeking
out from the sand
to prove that he never gave up
Trembling toes on the sand I'd let
the water rush and the gradual soft sink
the swallow of my ankles I never knew
I'd be stuck there forever
I never knew I'd turn into the shrinking rose
creeping by on my way home, I never knew I'd feel its pain
only living to be plucked and to suffocate in a vase
on a countertop or a dresser on a suburban afternoon
to be smashed and broken and taken out
for Tuesday's trash
Here in your arms, my last time standing
the last time I felt salt as candy on my dry
scarlet lips the last time the wind warmed my hair the last
time I felt like dew on a six am petal cold water
groping across my shivering breasts
I settle out of my shell
and dig for myself a hole
I think of the evicted crustacean, the crippled
rose
and wonder if anyone will pick me
to take home
with them
Copyright (c) 2004 by Christina McGinnis
Christina McGinnis earned her Bachelor's Degree in English from Saint Vincent College in Latrobe, PA and received the James Ragan Poetry Prize in 2002. Her work has been noted by Generation and more recently by the Greater Pittsburgh Literacy Council. She plans to attend graduate school Fall, 2005.