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Blue Sailors


Aurelia Jellyfish

Overnight the blue sailors wash in

and cover everything,

speckling barnacles and driftwood,

curling on the cusp of every wave.

Caught by the wrong tide,

they inundate sandy coastlines

in swells of organisms like azure

extensions of the sea.


They trace the high-tide lines

with bodies of perfect geometry;

gelatinous ovals bisected

by peaks aflame in sunlight

like opaque candles.


As they die,

the deep blueness of their lives dries

until they flurry in droves down the beaches. Moistureless white snowdrifts

pile and stir

under clamoring winds.


The bloom outlasts the day,

and when night descends its moonlight

soaks the fields of blue, each sail

raised to catch a homeward breeze.


By morning they are gone

to testify upon some other shore,

the voice of the abundant sea

imprinted in their spiral symmetry.

Amanda Hiland is a queer writer who grew up hiking through the forests of Oregon. A Special Education teacher by day, she is also a major astronomy enthusiast at night. She spends her free time folding origami, traveling, and advocating for underserved communities. Her work has appeared most recently in VoiceCatcher, Epiphany, Willawaw Journal, and Cathexis.

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