A Poem by Julia Haney

I squeeze sea urchin spines
from my sister’s palm,
diving wine dark
pain
to the breaking
pinhole
beneath her skin where
cities unfold,
new language
sparks,
green stars press
against space.
here,
her eyes are pinwheels
and the shore is
a horse
galloping towards
what will be will be.
here, I am grass
underfoot
I am eucalyptus
decaying
just a hymn
to sharpness
you cannot pierce
without a supple landing place
for the shrill,
nocturnal cry,
for the breaking open—
for the sea star.

Julia Haney is the Editor of Digital Content at Ovia Health and the Editor of Fiction & Poetry at Thalia, a magazine dedicated to celebrating creative writers and visual artists. Her poetry was selected by Mass Poetry to be featured on the Boston T and has appeared in Bamboo Ridge, in video poems by the artist, Morgane Richer La Flèche, and in a recent collection entitled, A Lemon Invitation.