Sylvia's Bell Jar
Sylvia's bell jar is not the only -
I was born in one; a flower of perfect preserved beauty.
A flower untouched,
Which goes without saying.
A first moment,
When passion unseals a vacuum.
Shells accumulate on a vast seashore far from me.
I intend to move out of the jar forever and take up residence in a spire of shell.
Home- chez maison.
The sea will spoon in, lap drizzle drazzle on the breath of ocean, against my body.
On this vast white beach of mind, grains of sand burn on my footsteps and all is well until
the tide comes in.
Azure spill of water, cold gray surf foam lifts me from my prized nautilus chamber.
Out to sea, float shell & I...
I suppose it would be safer to stay in the bell jar.