Fisherman’s Wife: A Poem by Katie Bee

Corel reef
Photo by Selena Morar on Unsplash

Fisherman’s Wife

He proposed with a pearl, pried from the heart of an oyster.
It was supposed to be romantic, this taking of a
precious thing. It was supposed to be prophetic.

He tied the pearl to a bit of salt-crusted fishing line.
It burned and we call that love. Salt in the wound of
taking.

Our priest was an octopus who unfurled from the tide pools.
Amongst a constellation of sea anemones and a choir of fish;
eight tentacles blessed the union of sea-monster and land-wife.

They threw salt in the air instead of rice. Rice is bad for the gulls.
They threw salt in my eye as my husband took my hand.

I used to pray for the storms to make me a widow, instead of this
taken thing.

This creature of prophecy- Lot's wife- a pillar of salt that no one
ever looks back for.

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