Matthew, a conch shell
Gentle Matthew sits silent, a stable home next to my unfurling dress, skirts blowing a loose prayer into the cold sand. I talk too much, Daddy. He does not move at my confession, but winter light shifts slightly against his old shell-back, and then I know he loves me, no-words-deeply. The slippery wake laps at our toad-mouths, pulls stories of wave and family to the […]
