An Oyster Meets Aphrodite

She lies against the curve of the sea's hip,
Clothed only in sand.
And never before have I envied
Crushed quartz,
But I envy the dust that supports her.

When the tide thieves it away,
I shall drink one of those graced grains.
I'll pack that sedimentary sentiment
Into my shell.
I'll study it well,
Though it burns my tongue.

One day,
A suitor with a shallow knife
Will cut her from me,
Just to admire her beauty.