Shipwrecked

Shipwrecked
by aleathia drehmer

It is a wall

of honeyed trees;

the aerial view, density personified,

engulfing and pushing

the girl simultaneously.

Her body is pulled inward

by the smell of it,

something akin to seaside,

and hay in mid-day heat.

Its branches a delicate coral,

an entanglement of water

removed from the primal habitat

climbing walls instead of creeping sand,

and she wants to swim through it,

lie in it like a simpleton

as if she belonged there,

pretending for moments

that she is a daughter of the ocean.

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