No More Collecting


     I might bomb the whole damn place.

             Choose the chaos, 

             the break in talk.


     No more making myself soft.

     No more smooth sailing 

              with the wind in our hair, looking towards the west. 


     No searching for sky fowl, no nautical talk, no seashells. 

            No more collecting.

     Just jagged rocks to crash on, to throw.

     Somewhere, someone yells, 


                  Women and children first!   


     Survive! We’re always told— 

     battle the sea.

                 I'm staying on the ship.

     I need to see you bleed.

Jasmine Jones is a Mama, a teacher, a daughter, and a friend. She lives with her family close to, but not close enough to, a beach in Tampa, FL.