Tonight
The sea is lifting her skirts to the moon
in a dance that’s as ancient and cyclical
as the waters that move inside me.
Fresh meets salt at the tidal mouth
and a myriad of events unfold here –
shorelines are shaped, estuaries fed,
sharks hide in the splayed roots
of the mangrove trees. Those with feathers
roost in the marshes, while those with shells
cling to the rocks, slip themselves
under ribbons of seaweed. Always a risk –
to navigate the shallows casts one fate,
to move to deep waters casts another.
How does she know where to bury
her eggs? Where is that invisible tideline?
Shaun R. Pankoski (she/her) is a poet most recently from Volcano, Hawaii. A retired county worker and two-time breast cancer survivor, she has been an artist’s model, modern dancer, massage therapist and an honorably discharged Air Force veteran. A 2024 Pushcart Prize nominee, her poems have appeared here and in ONE ART, Quartet, SWIMM, Jackdaw Review and Mocking Heart Review, among others. She was selected as a finalist by Lefty Blondie Press for her chapbook manuscript, “Tipping the Maids in Chocolate: Observations of Japan” and as a first runner-up for their Editors’ Choice Broadside Series for her poem, “Lupine.”