The Changeling Maid

by Patricia Roy

When she returns from a day at the beach,
a day she has longed for,
left you, momentarily, for,

You can see through her skin and eyes --
blue eyes of water and sky --
they used to be deep,
but now they are windy,
She looks faded and lost,
to you, like a blue shell.
A soft creature you never knew she used to be
has left her, picked clean
by the gull's beak, the fish's teeth.

She says she feels refreshed --
"The air! The sea air!" she cries,
"I can remember who I am.
And I love the waves!
They come to me like friends.
I spend the day in silent listening,
in slow, wave-dancing --
I write a poem
and then I come home."

And you are perplexed
because she has never looked so foreign or desolate,
so unlike the dark earth and stone
you have expected her to be,
and this new one
is too much like you.

Patricia Roy is an adjunct professor of English in the Boston area and has been a teacher for over ten years. Her poetry has been published in The Aurorean and has been performed at open mikes and festivals here and there. Patricia needs work to keep her stimulated -- too much free time makes her fat and lazy.

Patricia is a great lover of all fruit, so choosing one favorite would be nothing more than conceit. She has recently discovered the elegance of figs.

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