Diana Khoi Nguyen: Selkie Weaning Young
We remember the far-off songher precise voice
the way she walkedwhen we plucked fare from the shore
We made weed-wigsout of seagrass
chucked sand crabsat gulls—She was
always making dinneror spreading mortar.
Father'd bring home netsand salt.
Her caked fingers tore at fish twine.
We left our printsin her joined earth wares
kept our handsin the mix she spread
Father returned to us each night.
We found where he kept her huskits skin soft like oil lost in milk.
We thrust our handsinto the waxy bark
brought it to her & she
brought us to the beach
cut incisions in our small palms
told usto keep her clothes from flying.
We are marrow then a peach.Her form slipped between waves.