shoreline

the shuddering engine

dies. she looks in the

rearview mirror. watches the eye

of the needle

widen. leaves the keys

in the ignition. traces her way

to the shore.

she pauses

at the edge

of the water. a whole

human being

with a pair of eyes

and a pair of hands

and a pair of arms

and a pair of breasts

and a pair of thighs

and a pair of feet

alone

on an empty beach.

she screams. as loud

as she can. until her throat

feels like a red

cavern

on the brink

of collapsing.

the waves swallow

her song. the beaten cliffs

forget the echo

of her voice.

she is still

alone.

they found her car

a few days later.

waiting

in the empty

parking lot. the engine

dead. the keys

still

in the ignition.