All you have to do is
the littlest bit
pressure mounding in your fingertips.
The shell cracks open. Shatters,
glass into flesh
bone between teeth
salvage what you can.
Everyone you know lying scattered
ghosts from a past life.
There is a genocide on your kitchen counter
paw through the debris.
About the author
Pōneke based artist-poet-teacher. Co-editor and production manager of art/poetry zine Salty. Maisie also has work published or forthcoming by Sweet Mammalian, A Fine Line magazine, Flash Frontier, Overcommunicate, Anthropozine, ecARTnz and Salty.