Hot Pot Magazine

By KM Bezner

barnacle husks cling to the rocks because they have nothing better to hold on to.
stringy wilted seaweed hangs over them like dead cut hair fallen to the floor and
empty carcasses of clams and mussels are halted in their flight, half buried, the
hard shells of periwinkles are glued in place, melted to the rocks by the sun.

i wonder if they knew when the tide washed them ashore that this was the end for them.
i wonder if they resent the waves for leaving them behind, reaching
for those rocky anchors beneath the water, for
their cool, solid ground.

but i have seen this place when the waves are high, when the moon pulls those arms wide
and welcoming. i know that we are only waiting for the tide to return us home to come
alive again with one deep inhale seeing us back to the soft sand beneath the sea.

KM Bezner (she/they) is a former bookseller/librarian in training in Providence, Rhode Island. They like making zines, embroidery, and poetry.