There is a kind of story, God, that glides along under everything else that is happening, and this kind of story only jumps out into the light like a silver fish when it wants to see where it lives in relation to everything else.

INDIVISIBLE, FANNY HOWE

The Seal Wife

BY SIGNE PIKE

One night I’ll break free,

and hair streaming behind

I’ll race for the beach.

The wind, brackish and thick

will soften the air

and cling to my cheek.

I won’t be able to hear you

over the sound of my feet

pounding the wood

the roar of the water

the hot lure of sand.

Around me the sea-brush will twist and sing,

sheltering the boardwalk

in a thousand arches:

a tunnel of green

that will carry me away

back to the sea.