Bella Donna

At low tide 

she gathers broken shells and sucks on candied plums

searching 

for sea lavenders to pin on her sand castle

 until there is nothing left to look for on the mollusk hash

but the print of faded flip flops as they melt on jaded foam

and the drip of sighs trickling on flooded sands

her steps batter up rock crags slick and crimson 

above high tide 

where a lavender  sun pours ripples of amethysts onto mermaid garlands

coaxing 

the sound of her heart song to float above the  roar

to listen for  patches of anemones glistening around her feet…

smell ribbons of wisteria winding through the breeze

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