of the sea.
I break the blue shell.
she shatters it
like it’s glass.
The frame of the house rattles with the force of all those captured waves.
the noise of the crashing sea
swirls through the room.
I catch the sound between my palms and press it down into the broken pieces and the crushed pearls.
to anyone watching
what happens next, it might look
like la Bruja del Mar and her mother
are forging a knife of many blades.
My mother glances over and says, “Yes, that’s it, mija,” and then goes to find all the salt in the house.
la Bruja del Mar
crafts a necklace
and two bracelets
from the twine of my hair
and the broken pieces, enchanted
with the dust of pearls.
When I finish, the frame of the house is still shaking from all the waves caught inside that broken shell.
I just barely register it,
the drone of the town.
their whispers turn to a buzzing.
their curiosity draws them out
from behind their windows.
I fasten the bracelets on her wrists. “Sorry,” I say when they touch the bruises.
I tell her not to be.
I don’t realize why my mother is locking the front door until I hear the stomping up the front steps.
I know the rhythm
of that walk, the stride
