TERRY HALL BODINE
Her fingers sifting low-slung surf snag
clam shell, white-thick, hard as bone.
Lifting shards she pictures parts
cut out of her, an ovary so impatient
to procreate that prior to any conception
it began to knit bits of baby teeth,
firm knots of skin, surprising kinks
of hair. The single child delivered
of the houseful she intended
nearly grown now, nearly gone,
she contemplates that cyst since
cast away, formless as an oyster
nursing chips of pearl. As the sea
laps languidly the backs of her knees,
she misses that not-born, thinks she yet
could love it without heartbeat, lungs,
without ten perfect shell-tipped toes.
A graduate of the College of William & Mary, Terry Hall Bodine works as the housing coordinator at University of Lynchburg. Recent publication credits include Roanoke Review, The Tishman Review, Scintilla, and Cathexis Northwest Press.