SIEANNEN
BELL
Original
Paintings
by
G.
Mariani
%20g%20mariani.jpg)
Ash
and
Brine
it
was
the
wind
then
brash
and
salty
against
my
lips
kiss
of
ash
and
brine
the
breeze
blowing
my
own
cigarette
back
to
burn
my
fingers
the
world
around
me
slept
sun-dazed
and
unaware
as
I
ran
the
sand
pounding
myself
against
a
season
flushed
with
lust
and
honeysuckle
on
the
bayside
we
sucked
at
crab
legs
and
clams
still
wet
from
the
sea
at
twilight
the
carnival
began
strobe
lights
against
the
incoming
fog
the
twitter
of
young
female
voices
a
sing-song
steady
scream
against
the
backbeat
of
frat
boy
hip-hop
%20g%20mariani.jpg)
I
walked
the
beach
strutted
out
across
the
rocks
it
was
the
wind
then
thick
with
salt
and
stilted
music
that
wrapped
my
thin
skirt
against
my
legs
and
left
me
reeling
with
the
heft
of
the
water
as
if
it
were
crushing
me
as
if
my
bones
were
only
so
many
thin
white
shells
to
be
left
shattered
along
this
beach
already
littered
by
trash
and
lingering
human
footprints
something
about
the
sea
makes
me
hungry
fills
me
with
a
longing
and
a
physical
ache
in
the
night
I
tossed
and
turned
against
the
currents
of
my
dreams
my
hands
caught
in
my
hair
my
feet
pressed
against
the
bedsheets
seeking
purchase
in
the
unquiet
dark
these
islands
remind
me
of
my
birthplace
which
is
further
south
and
indescribably
greener
but
the
water
talks
to
me
and
my
gypsy
heart
rocks
closed
against
the
memory
of
rest
or
contentment
it
was
the
wind
then
murmuring
a
lullaby
in
tones
as
gentle
as
a
knife
entering
soft
skin,
overripe
fruit
or
the
belly
of
a
fish
shimmering
with
salt
and
prismed
scales
it
was
the
wind
then
Blue
Tattoo
(Siren)
%20g%20mariani.jpg) wandering
into
the
tug
and
pull
of
lunar
tides
I
run
with
my
pockets
full
of
shale
and
loose
tobacco
I
am
crumbling
and
burning
throwing
myself
in
the
singing
sea
siren
of
my
own
song
that
is
only
the
raving
mutter
of
one
lost
girl
searching
the
shoreline
for
gull
feathers
and
pale
pink
seashells
etched
delicate
as
fine
glass
by
the
pressure
of
a
million
water-formed
fingers
grinding
back
the
sand
the
rhythm
and
throb
of
the
surf
is
a
blue
tattoo
on
my
sunburned
skin
I
want
to
lay
under
the
waves
and
be
taken
away
there
is
something
fragile
in
me
that
is
breaking
for
the
last
time
the
wind
shattering
me
open
into
the
wide
expanse
of
the
sea
I
braid
seaweed
into
salt-slick
bracelets
I
bind
myself
to
the
water
and
feel
my
blood
rush
wild
as
the
wave
that
is
about
to
take
me
under |