by Mary Cornelius
Runestone, Volume 1
Even daytime in the ocean
is lit like sunset, like six o’clock
stopped in time. Light slants strangely
below the waves, bows and bends
like anemone on sea-drunk spines.
Rumored blue, too often, the ocean
is dark. So the fish has begun to dream
of wide-open spaces. Of lungs, of
wind-chapped lips, of whales.
Some nights he wakes with fins
itching, gills aching, mouth tight
with the memory of air.
Mary Cornelius is a poet, runner, and amateur baker with big dreams. Her work has been published in Murphy Square, The Minetta Review, and The Riveter Magazine. She is a junior at Augsburg College majoring in English literature and creative writing.