by Sarah Jessen
Skin as translucent as morning dew,
arteries as delicate as gossamer.
A cry as shrill as an injured selkie.
Unused eyes clouded with haar,
searching for nourishment,
that alabaster nectar
The air burns.
So alien to that liquid enclosure.
A familiar sound.
Swept up and placed on bosom,
two hearts together like moth and flame.