Harvest
She sells seaweed. I read it
somewhere. A blonde woman
collecting tons off the beach.
Seaweed is used in salads, soups
and sauces, shampoos and
soaps. I read the label off
my shampoo bottle. It is
plastic and pink and does not
have any seaweed. Seaweed
picks up whatever’s in the
water so they have to test for
contaminants. I tasted
seaweed once. It was dried
and in chips. I could only
take a small bite. I couldn’t
swallow it. I was squeamish.
I gave all of it away. I tried
vegemite once, too. The jar
sat in my cupboard until it
cracked. Even then, I never
threw it away.
© 2022 LB Sedlacek
Illumination
1.
Cold cool cement
to keep the seawater blocked
while a family’s supper
sits on the table
lit by the footpath to the
stars and the
giant glass orb making
it safe for sea travelers.
2.
Cold cool cement
empty but full of space with
chains keeping schoolchildren
from exploring where they
shouldn’t; and the stars
plus the giant glass orb retired
no longer needed in the computer
age where compasses are mere
souvenirs and sailors few
in number.
© 2022 LB Sedlacek
BIO: LB Sedlacek has had poems and stories published in a variety of journals
and zines. Her poetry books include “Swim,” “Simultaneous Submissions,”
“Happy Little Clouds,” “The Architect of French Fries,” and “Words and Bones.”
Her first short story collection, "Four Thieves of Vinegar & Other Short Stories"
was published by Alien Buddha Press in 2020. In her free time, LB likes to
swim, read and play the ukulele.
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