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by Monika Trotula

You say:
Oh she would just swim and swim
somersault in the sea for hours on end
She’s an otter, what does she know
her interests are: clams

You tell me:
Just look at you so robust and grounded!
like a turnip!
some soil nutrients!

I wish I was
swift and coarse
insulated with an exceptionally thick fur
capable of living exclusively in the ocean
My coffee bean shaped ears would shut on demand
I would be lulled to sleep caressed by the sea moss
I could easily pierce any hard shell with my bite force of a black bear
or crush it with a piece of rock held in my agile paws

Yet still
I untangle knots nimbly

I wish I was
Succulent and the season’s best
soaking up rhizomatic entrails of the soil
(Viscera Terrae - how sentient of me to know that)
Close to the secrets of wild weeds of spite
fully immersed in the process of life force,
Lurking. Still. Nurtured. Growth unhindered.

I am
a small, tender variety
grown solely for human consumption

Rooting for you

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About the author:

Monika Trotula grew up in Poland and currently lives on the English seaside. She is a self-described avid sea kayaker, a guinea pig herd leader, and a moderator of a livestream about otters. She often writes about the sea, forgotten worlds, and the extrapolation of non-human consciousness.


Her short story One Nude Dude was published in Hitchhiking anthology book (Ha!art, Poland, 2005), and has had poetry published in Lucent Dreaming, and The Writers' Club.

Photo:  Drifting Away by Erato Magazine via Wombo 

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