When I visited the Gulf for the first time in twelve years, I was sensually overwhelmed by the power of our Ocean Mother. She's out in the waves, and ever true to her siren self, she's looking for a meal to shatter, for a wayward human to wander too close to her rip tide. Like the seagull bashing shells against rocks, the sea has a way of fragmenting you as you stand face to face with her alone on the shore, the edges of yourself fading into the misty morning light. These poems are from that experience of confronting Ocean Mother for the first time in what seemed an age, and I'm still trying to discover if I myself shattered on those shores, or if I ended up taking other pieces home with me.