“Last Universal Offspring (Uncommon)” by Ella Flores

Issue 84

Found in Willow Springs 84

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           Hungover seagulls stumble dawn in. Who told you

you came from water? The morning people


attempt to slow it down, their scattered outlines:

cut-outs against cloud-haze. Who told you to listen


for the coos the hermit crabs collect

in their conch shells? A forgiving gesture to all

prodigal children, an apology for having


               thrown them out, a primordial lullaby they refuse

               to believe is their own recursive echoes


     to lead them back to every ocean, from here

   to Enceladus—Hush, motions the wetness,


tranquila, levantando los pezones de sus olas

to our lips, singing a hum we heard before lungs,

blanketing our skin, tucking hush with every surge,


                                    with each arm wrapping around. Who forgot to tell us

the edges of the world are soft.

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