Nathalie Boisard-Beudin

Jumping Ship

Our relation-ship was sailing a smooth course. Then I got pregnant and our yet unborn angel became an angle, a reef. I learnt to swim.

©2011, Nathalie Boisard-Beudin

Tagged Angle

I mixed your ashes into paintings I was preparing for my next show; a great success, I am pleased to report, and they never found the body.

Tagged ash

Trying to forget you, I sandblast my brain with fake, alternative, memories. Yet you stand out like a sharp knot still, refusing to yield.

You can tell the type of creature she used to be from the smell of sea breeze in her hair and those kelp rags she calls clothing.

She will still dance on the waves, every full moon, liquid fingers reaching out to get her, to taint her. To mark her as their own.

Her folks want to have her back just as much as we do, the lovely Pearl, glistening on my pillow. She refuses to choose a side.

If she’ll eat fish, she will belong to us, to our world, ever after. Which is why she claims to be a vegetarian.

I think she does not care for us, really. She just changed over for the love of wind and flowers. For the long walks on the beach.

He felt that something was missing in his new creamed rice ice cream. So he added a dab of wasabi paste and a rose shaped sliver of tuna.