by Nicole Bethune
where it’s fine to shower in salt,
normal to strut without a bra, where
you can climb
mountains and ocean
bathe
in the same day. run
barefoot
through slot canyons
I’ve been stripping bare, peeling
off the bullshit, shedding the weight
of what life is supposed to look like.
stepping into
the dirt-caked fingernail girl
the girl
with feet like sandpaper
most jazzed when sun
scorched, waking up to gold basked
wildness
that she carves into mud,
stains pages terracotta
with dust and coffee and wine
red, it feels good to scrub
away the dead
skin
About the Author:
Nicole Bethune is a poet, writer and multi-faceted artist. She is the nonfiction editor of Miniskirt Magazine, and her first collection of poetry, brackish, was published by Finishing Line Press. Her work has appeared in The Santa Clara Review, Wild Roof Journal, Novus Lit, and others. She is currently focused on documenting her memories, travels and interactions with the environment through her creative work and when she isn’t writing or wheel-throwing, Nicole is likely off exploring with her dog, Lyla. You can reach her at @nicolee.bethune on most social media platforms.