brine has darkened her cells

the fish

mistake her for one of their kind.

she lies in the sand, hair coated with yellow grains turned translucent by the wetness

her nails are clear like the sea without the sky

her skin absorbs light, takes it, darkens

in the sea, she exhales all her air to dive deep

wishes for scales in place of skin, long draping fins where the fingers sweep the underside of waves as they bucket overhead

falls to the sand. the whitewash above a creamy sepulchre.

i want to be a woman so briny.

skin pickled to hardness. hair breaking off in the sun. legs beating green jelly into the night.