Antiquities

As girls, we waited for the neap tides
to draw back the usual surfaces
and show us sunken treasures ~

                                                 barnacled reels,
                                                 a purple fish stranded in a tidepool,
                                                 the base

of a rock face we climbed daily and believed
permanent ~ and mesmerize us.
 
Nothing changed as fast as we did.
Now, the tides draw back from
the base of my thumb,

                                                  its knobby pain
                                                  how raw meat must feel,
                                                  stranded

on the cutting board, its joints carved up
by the oldest knife in the world.

---

Michele Sharpe, a poet and essayist, is also a high school dropout, hepatitis C survivor, adoptee, and former trial attorney. Her essays appear in venues including The New York Times, The Washington Post, and Poets & Writers. Poems are recently published or forthcoming in Sweet, The Mom Egg Review, Rogue Agent, and Salamander. She lives in North Florida.

Art: Public Domain