artefact of summer, 25

waiting for an Odyssey.

                                  the rocks that held me last summer. the rocks 
                                  that will hold me when summer comes again. 
                                  where this short artefact was written. It was 
                                   found again at the start of December. 

The sea at my feet. Hours later. Somewhere the floor must drop, and I do not know how deep. I have never been a good swimmer. There are a cluster of them. The sea beating over them. They are here each time. Holding onto each other. Their bodies are coated in seaweed. If I ask nicely they’ll let me reach between them and pull a perfectly preserved shell from between their lips. Aphrodite sleeps there.

from the start of summer. April.

There’s a certain mixture of hope and fear in reaching my hand so far into the sea without knowing its true depth. These rocks might hide something more between them than the offerings Aphrodite spits up for a glimpse at my fingertips. For a glimpse at fate. Do they belong here? When did these rocks emerge from the soft belly of the earth and gather themselves together and vow to hold each other for however long eternity lasts? There’s a boat out at sea. I climb onto the rocks and pull my knees to my chest. Aphrodite sleeps here. The sun beats my shoulders. He’s kissing and it will leave a mark. Do I belong here? Waiting for the rocks to learn my palms? If I hold them out long enough will the sun turn his face away or mark them also?

Am I destined to the sun or the waves? A gentle ripple in the current. I look over from my ledge and watch the waves soft. Tender.

Am I for the sun or the waves?

the rocks that held me. cradled my weight beneath them.

Beatrice.