by Susan Glickman
“Come unto these yellow sands”
The monsters splayed on this sulphurous beach
are nothing like those whose tentacles
slither languid through your dreams,
nor those hulking hunchbacked
down rainwet cobblestones, nor those
whose shadows slide under bedroom doors
whispering to grey brethren in the closet.
These creatures intend nothing
but the truth, their gaping mouths amazed
by daylight. They were safer where they were,
the weight of the sea pure benevolence.
Here, now, oxygen shreads their tender gills
and the sun laughs.
It is exposure that deforms them.