3 Poems by Valentina Cano
The selkies in her head
reaping shells as she takes the bus.
The woman feels the turn,
the ebb of sand under her thickening heels
as she looks out of the pocked window.
She thinks herself away from the salt
working its way into her lips,
burrowing like ticks.
Her whole face ripples with the voices.
With the whispering waves
dragging her back.
Statue of a Woman
There’s a statue by my house
that does not stop screaming.
It shrieks with a bird’s voice,
filling the air about it with
It was one of them, once,
before feathers calcified around it,
its weight an anchor,
its lungs bricked up with lead.
Coral, in Metamorphosis
My room becomes a crystal wave each night.
A fish’s tail presses to the ceiling,
turning itself into a crescent moon.
I breathe in my underwater chamber,
dreaming myself into seashells and sand.
Valentina Cano is a student of classical singing who spends whatever free time she has either reading or writing. Her works have appeared in numerous publications and her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Web. Her debut novel, The Rose Master, will be published in 2014.