Leland Quarterly | Summer 2020
Types of Still
Alexandra Crew Head resting on my left arm, the sun pales the graphite sky, the ocean begins to gleam. I roll to the right, my arm scraping sheets chilled like an ocean too low in temperature to sustain life. I return to face the ocean, sit cross-legged on the gray floor, and light incense pulled from beneath the bed. Eyes closed, palms up on knees, I breathe. Meditation smoothing the surface of my mind to mirror the ocean, silver and sublime. Bells chime, returning me to my body, my morning. I call Keira’s name. Claws click and echo off dawn-lit family portraits still waiting to be warmed by the missing, matching bodies: daughters and a husband imagined.
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