Marie Antionette

On your birthday an explorer gives you
the first of many narwhal tusks.
He tells you it is a unicorn horn.
You are pleasantly deceived.

With salt crystal needle and seaweed thread
you stitch yourself into a summer frock.
You gather yourself together and
ignore the Pacific chills.

Now it is close enough you can see
how it spirals in a counter-clockwise direction,
taps Morse code on the hull
beneath your splayed toes.

You sit in the bow and imagine
what lies ahead.
Splashing water melts your stitches.
What holds you together?

[RK, 1/18/2021]

Figure Skating

Your skin prickles deliciously in the cold air.
You cut infinity symbols in the ice
until it cracks. You are prepared.

The symbolic lily, botany of the dead.
Allow it to metamorphosize into
a fresh lotus blossom. Indulge.

[RK, 1/17/2021]