Goose Barnacles

Bex Hainsworth

I find a crop of tentacles

hissing at low tide.

Their heads curve like snowdrops,

pale shells snapping, splashed

with orange like menstrual rust.

There is something labial

about their beaks, wet tongues

sucking at the rocks.

A crown of pustules, ripe fruit,

making a honking squelch

in the swoop of the wind.

I step closer to inspect

this Medusa mimicry.

The stone face is yours,

and I remember nudging

my nose beneath your jaw,

crawling under you like

a crab and kissing

limpets to your neck,

safe from your gaze

and the storm. 

Bex Hainsworth (she/her) is a bisexual poet and teacher based in Leicester, UK. She won the Collection HQ Prize as part of the East Riding Festival of Words, and her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Heavy Feather Review, Ethel Zine, Atrium, Okay Donkey, Acropolis Journal, and Brave Voices Magazine. Find her on Twitter @PoetBex.