AUTHOR: Ara
EDITOR: Kallie E. Sage
ARTIST: Nika
do you ever think about it?
three monsoons ago I buried my heart in the sands of the beach, one-hour drive from the suburbs of our town, with its fishy-salty-air like a pang to our nostrils. velvety, the sand. not like any other sand I’d felt before. crumbling, cross. and yet, velvety. you could tell it was the type people spent their yesterdays on. you go to the beach today and all you can see is how it was three monsoons ago. it applies to everyone. or it applies only to me. I never make sense, do I?
we stroked the velvet beneath bare feet. we wondered how far the horizon stretched. you knelt by my side and held a conch to my ear, and I listened, listened to the sea rumbling from within. I still have the conch in the corner of my drawer, buried beneath smudged letters and wilted flowers. it’s gathering dust. but when I hold it to my ear I can still hear it: the sea rumbling. and when I close my eyes and listen I can hear my heartbeat. and when I close my eyes and really listen I can hear our footsteps.
and when I close my eyes and really really listen — I can hear you.
and suddenly the fingers tremble and the conch falls to the feet on the cracked floor and the world spins and I wonder if I have truly lost my mind, if I have truly lost all sense. but I’ve never made sense, have I?
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