Confession

Averted, I stare at the gray-green of ocean

each new wave extracting color from my eyes

until all my latent secrets lay leeched,

their shadowy vignettes exposed.

Focused, you accept the palette of my cheek

deciphering fortunes in pink freckles

whose patterns dance hope, absolved

of the occipital connection.

The sun shifts its round orange shoulders

under the burden of descent,

curiously contented. Invariably

stand the statues of wisdom and virtue

traced in the white childhood of moon.

That night, I cast our net over the horizon

took your bones out of socket

and left you paralyzed on the beach

calling my name.

Abby Tjaden

Abby Tjaden, is an avid reader of poetry and is perusing a degree in English in order to become a professor. She is originally from Toms River, New Jersey, where the ocean has long served as an inspiration for her writing.