SQN - Sine Qua Non - Issue Two - Journal - Page 104
SINE QUA NON
RUNNER-UP — POETRY
Meredith Raine Olsson
Ocean Beach, San Francisco
Patches of fog like
quilted air heavy
our breaths with
the taste of salt.
The sand is pale
and chilled, damp
against our bare feet
as we sprint through
brambles on the way
to the beach. We’ve driven
miles for this—halved
our car’s resale value
for this, but I watch
you turn away
from the ocean and kneel
to examine a bush.
Look, you say. Blackberries.
My father brought me
to this beach when I
was born—before
I ever saw home,
I saw this: waves
like cobalt metal blankets
pulled up to the chin
of the world. And now
I watch you crouch focus
onto green-thorned
twigs. I look at the back
of your head,
your swirling crown
of hair, until you turn
again towards me, holding a
fistful of blackberries
because they remind you
of those flour-filled
moments with your grandfather,
baking blackberry pie.
Try them, you say. They’re perfect.
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