Hurling

Alexis Groulx

            myself into love—

razor blade. Lately

I’ve been feeling free

    to ruin my body.

Slim strip of beach—

     night—

January—

  there is nothing here, but me.

What is a sign?

   The dim glow of a lighthouse—

through sea fog? Snow

 falling on cracked sand dollars?

A crab’s empty torso— easy

   meal, devoured

by gulls? On the rocks,

  by the roadside

a statue stands guard.

  She is watching me. Men

have died here. She is saying— now

they are nameless. I sit

  by her for awhile. The woman’s body

protected by a scarf of stone. I want

  to be seen. I search for something

to leave with this woman— a small shell—

pounded sea glass – but there is nothing & so we part

ways without a glance. Her eyes without pupils.

Empty boardwalk—

heart of winter. Buzz & glow of signs promising

  cold beer, fried dough, games— all grown cold.

The only light here: a dim glow from my cigarette.

  Something about the absence of the moon—

as if it is telling me, You are nothing, little bird— nothing

more than skin.

Alexis Groulxs work has been previously published, or is forthcoming in Blue Lyra Review, Bridge Eight, Civil Coping Mechanisms, Gravel, Off the Coast, Sun & Sandstone, The Missing Slate, and others. She is currently an MFA candidate at Vermont College of Fine Arts.

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