by Samantha R. Sharp
Cedar Key
Not usually
do I sleep in the dark,
hear an animal in the house,
a damp body
rattle the hot iron grate,
the wind as it stalks the gaps
in the sand.
I keep the light in here
too harsh,
bleaches the skin
of my eyes,
burns off the waves.
Nothing grows without water,
splits a shell. This
is the world I’ve been
waiting for,
years since I saw a ghost.
Poet Samantha R. Sharp (she/her) is a PhD student, creative writer, and editor originally from Sanford, Florida. Her work primarily explores the intersections of ecology and poetics. Find previously published work in Bicoastal Review, EcoTheo Review, Wild Roof Journal, and elsewhere. She currently lives in upstate New York with her two cats.
Artist Najib Joe Hakim (he/him) is a working documentary photographer, artist and photography instructor. Hakim also serves as the President of the Board for the Network of Photographers for Palestine and is a founding member of Class Conscious Photographers. He is the recipient of the Rebuilding Alliance Storytellers Award for a trilogy of projects on Palestine, a Political Art Fellow at the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, and a past nominee for the US Artist Fellowship. Website: <https://www.jaffaorangephoto.com/ >. His books are available at: <https://bit.ly/MagCloudBookCollection >.
Gulf Stream Magazine 