the pelt

her pelt came wrapped in a package
like a mystery she could solve
during her empty nights

her living had reached a torment,
within closed doors,
behind suspicious looks

all her friends remembered
her creeping towards the water,
slipping away

land, she said, her shoulder to the sea
held layers of crying people
like torn oysters

she was longing to say, the seal is me
it’s a house, that pelt,
a liveable set of shoulders

when they kicked down the door
to the boathouse,
her jacket hung inside there in the night

already she was diving under the waves
swimming full tilt
in the cold glinting water


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