Clutching still beating hearts painted them staring at a past they wanted to forget. Together in my mind created a foreground of dark clouds and emotion; an inside out view. If you turn yourself around and sit in the boat bobbing in the pulsing surf, the faces will be blank. The dresses will be open to the waist an offering to the sea in hopes they will return to suckle once more.
Perhaps you know them; call them sirens or banshees, but I call them, my sisters.
By Rose Dewy Knickers, August 7th, 2008