Ruby Cook

The Taste of Sweet Pea Leaves

for Martha Silano

She was a bluff
yes, coastal,
dropping
into the thick
of an orca pod,
nestled under one
seafoam comforter.
Hiding from us,
her voice
was gurgling
saltwater,
her limbs
urging action.
Wrapped in hollow,
kelp, slouched
over driftwood,
all dried up
and pumped up
with morphine,
her smiles,
induced.

I remember
in the taste of sweet
pea leaves, her
animated body,
billowing hands,
showing eyes.
She is an indent
on the mattress
my father sleeps in,
still
far to the left,
on his side.
I curl up,
palm cupping cheek,
feeling the curve
of her back,
only by the memory
of foam.

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Ruby Cook is a literature and visual art student at Bennington College. Her work has appeared in Expat Press and Terrain.org.