(Lush) Ocean Salt
I scrub your face with sea salt
while I try to wear away dead skin
and imagine butterflies pinned
You have stood unmoving beneath
rain and sun. I felt timidly hopeful
because you would have been a monarch
if you had been stained with color.
as the scent of coconut oil
lingered in your hair. Some days
you vanished. Tucked beneath
while hiding from entire world.
I think about you on milkweed beneath
fresh skin that slowly emerges
from beneath salt and silken tofu.
I wash your face clean and you
look suddenly different beneath
light that hangs from ceiling.
as faucet drips.
Rachel Small writes and lives in Ottawa. A post-undergrad student from Carleton University's History program, she is currently a writer and editor for AtticVoices. Her writing has appeared in SPINE, Pulp Poet's Press and Marias at Sampaguitas and she has work forthcoming in The Hellebore and Bywords. You can find her on twitter @rahel_taller.