An Oyster Meets Aphrodite

She lies against the curve of the sea’s hip,
clothed only in sand.
and never before have I envied
crushed quartz,
but I envy the dust that supports her.

When the tide thieves it away,
I shall drink one of those graced grains.
I’ll pack that sedimentary sentiment
into my shell.
I’ll study it well,
though it burns my tongue.

One day,
a suitor with a shallow knife
will cut her from me,
just to admire her beauty.

Were I he,
I would do the same.

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