Rob Arnold

This piece is part of our Winter 2023 print issue, available for purchase here.          

Like all things, it begins as water and ends as water As water, it may become vapor, steam droplets on a window, a heaviness in the air we bring into our lungs It may become dew or dog piss in the grass, a body’s nourishment or excreta Residue from the time when it once had

The raw pearl my mother gave to me, that I gave to you. I carry it sometimes in my dreams, its memory swelling like a blister. Forged from the blood of the Pacific, little grain, little ache on the tongue. * If you held it in your mouth, it would be smooth, semen-colored, embryonic. If