.
She clings to stone
like the chiton’s shell,
shielded when the tide comes in.
He questions her silence
but she’s beneath the cold waves,
their opposites fusing
into thick, hard plates.
He can pry her from the rock
and penetrate her shell
but his blade
no longer reaches
to her heart.
.
(c) 1983, 2016 Betty Hayes Albright
.
Seasonings 
Hi Betty,
I love the way this flows and I want to be able to get much more from it, to understand it more.
So first, I had to look up the word “chiton”!
It immediately started to fall into place, but I know when I read it over it will say much more. to me.
You have so much talent!
Christine x
LikeLike
Thank you so much, Christine! (I used to find chevron shaped pieces of chiton shells on the beach and didn’t know what they were until a marine biologist friend told me. They stood out, being turquoise and white – very pretty 🙂 )
LikeLike
Nice poem but sad and I think she’s being shellfish…………sorry Betty.
LikeLike
LOL, Dennis! 🙂 (It’s okay, I like punny people.)
LikeLike
I love these types of poems where you have both a “he” and “she” especially when metaphoric. Really excellent!
LikeLike
Metaphor extraordinaire…
LikeLike
Thank you, Lindy! 🙂
LikeLike