Toss me in the tumult
Let me bleed without pain
I want no cozy cavern
Packed away safe and still
Let mourners come to a beaten rock
Let apparitions tickle the horizon
Let wet eyes wonder
Send my atoms headlong into the gyre
Fold me back into the soup
Let the crabs have their fill
I will taste through their tongues
Breathe in the brine
Let a hot August sky suck me up
and a cool September pour me out
Let me rest without place
decay without trace
-Sophia Larson, ’23