détente

by Cassondra Windwalker ​

selkies and sand-fairies have long been at war

I know this,
not from storybooks or songs,
but from the hollow place
in my belly where babies once slept:

it is the same sort of battle
that sends starlight surging
across galaxies, straining
to glimmer on the lost faces of pallasites,
a blow that aches like a caress

so I play mediator

sifting the black sand
for even the tiniest of unshattered spiral shells,
leaving them as offerings
on stones stained by high tide marks

and when I squint into the light,
where the sun wicks fog from the waves
and sends it billowing and tumbling
over the shore, I stand, signatory, as the seal-folk shed their skins,
and the sand-fairies fold away
their abrading wings to trade treasures
with their former families
and—no doubt—hatch common plots
against us mortal grabbers
with our open mouths and clenched fists and dirty, dirty, oil-stained feet.

Cassondra Windwalker writes full-time from the southern coast of Alaska. Her poetry collections include, The Almost-Children, as well as the award-winning books, tide tables and tea with god and The Bench. She also has several novels available in bookstores and online, most recently, Love Like A Cephalopod, Hold My Place, and Idle Hands. She enjoys interacting with artists, readers, and all sorts of magical folk on Twitter @WindwalkerWrite.