Amy-Sarah Marshall writes about the experience of composing her poem, Shelled: “I tend to overwrite, lean into profusions of emotional, voluptuous lines – scaling back to something small and delicate feels so risky and vulnerable. This also matches the feeling of losing a loved one, going through their effects, unclear as to what each piece meant. This is what we find, too, when we look at the world around us – no explanations, no fortune cookie strip to explain our being here. We’re exposed, again and again, to a reality that can feel lonely – but also, beautiful.”
Shelled
in the litter of stones that glitter
the damp sand
of a winter day sucking
on a warm, green river
you touch an open clamshell
each twin pocket
slim and pale
as a fingernail
but cocked like a locket
from a mother’s drawer
without a photo to describe
what she held
dear just escape or shiny
relinquishment
and your own lonely
brain picking through
Amy-Sarah Marshall
Amy-Sarah Marshall, who graduated with an MFA in Poetry from George Mason University, has published poems in the Wisconsin Review, So to Speak, and other journals. She has worked as a web writer and editor, content strategist, and founding president of the Charlottesville Pride Community Network, an LGBTQ+ community nonprofit. A Los Angeles native, Amy-Sarah grew up in a religious theater cult and now lives in Charlottesville, Virginia with her wife, two children, one dogs, and two cats.