Glass Poetry Press

Volume Five Issue One

Joan McNerney

Neptune's Coquette

My toes throb over hard pebbles. Waters slip over slim ankles. Should I stand shivering or go swim? Lose my footprint? Off I run, falling over myself a mug of salty cider. This wave an insecure bed. Seaweed pillow. Carried by moon to an abyss. The floor of my mansion is not tidy. I shall have sponges for lunch. Ride with seahorses perhaps. On the far shore, my gigantic lover smiles, kisses of surf. We thread soft waters while sunshine dresses us in golden sequins.