On the black, brutal coast, cold water gnawing at my edges. Woman as continent. As homeland. I am not bound by the rules of rhinestones. I am governed by gems. A sparrow looked upon my life and laughed. If I could bottle that laughter, I’d be drunk on it the rest of my life. Who knew birds were so sardonic? I slip into the water, my name superfluous and bobbing at the surface with an image of my moaning face under judgmental moonlight. What savagery leads us to trade land for sea, to slip off our slips and float away until we are snow drifting down into trenches for blind predators to feast on in the dark?
