Size / / /

rumbling into bits of heart

wasted on the seashore

I want to believe in gods

or ghosts

but I don't

they scatter in the sun

turning back to sea foam

their failure leaving scars

on the waves

the youngest mermaid

made me swear never to tell you

but do you remember

briny hair

and the bare feet that left water spots

all across your carpet?

do you remember the one with

the fish-tasting kisses

who failed to win you?

unrequited love's a pain

you could drown the ocean in

and so the strange kid

kissing tears and leaking bubbles

re-dissolved

turning back into a fish

you can't catch the foam

and put it back into the shape of people

or hearts

with your hands




Selena Martens is a library and information technician living in Northern Ontario. Her poetry has appeared in Death Rattle and Illumen magazines.
Current Issue
15 Jul 2024

I inherited the molting, which my mother will deny; she’ll insist it’s a thing only women do, each heartbreak withering from the body like a petal.
a sand trail ever fungible, called to reconcile the syrupy baubles—resplendent pineapple geodes
Who chose who spoke? Who silenced the sparrow?
Friday: The Book of Witches edited by Jonathan Strahan 
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