Glass Shards & Sea Weed

GLASS SHARDS & SEA WEED

BY SIERRA JACKSON

I’m a pressure tile pressed with

gravel to fit a picture, perfect,

mosaic piece of marble.

Feel the pressure against my title.

Resonate against the letters,

that do not make me.

“Isn’t everyone a little gay?”

I’m unlabeled.

Usually, unstable

when constrained to a room.

Two colors:

red and blue

make purple.

Choose any color

from the hues of

blood orange between knuckles

swimming through mucus-filled seas,

glass shards and seaweed.

Of course it makes tidal waves, if

you find yourself in the Red Sea.

“Why don’t you just say you’re bi?”

So pick all of the colors or none and run heavy or empty handed.

Come where lovers meet in unison, Your part and mine, no matter the shape, will always fit.

I prefer to make my own mark from a devotee who will lick what can’t be seen. Unless they’re in the sea with me.

“Pansexual?”

I’m unlabeled. usually, underwhelmed when given a title I didn’t ask for.

Pressure tiles.

Pressing titles.

Against the grain to let it break the way I want it to.

Copper flows from my feet, as I walk from thesand filled mines of the beach.