An Ochre Sea Star wraps itself around my ankle. It’s something like a hug, and something like a Vulcan mind meld, stripping down the layers of flesh to get to the heart of me. But I’m part Sea Urchin. The spines come out, whether I choose them or not.
And this is the last thing visible.
Author’s Note: I saw ochre sea stars and sea urchins this weekend, their color rich like velvet. Since I didn’t have my camera with me, I thought I’d share this instead. This snippet was originally intended to go into a prose poem chapbook called “Ways to talk about the weather”. Each poem-let was some sort of reflection on the visible light spectrum.