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  • Maria Cohut

Sea sick

By Maria Cohut

It was the last pebble

on the shore,

all the other pebbles blown away or eaten.

Maria Cohut

The sea is a great beast –

a behemoth, an infinite slug,

its foam the radula that grits and grates and grinds

the remains of our small lives into sand, then


I held the last pebble.

On my palm, it was weightless –

a pure soul, unburdened

by pleasures and sorrows –

and my palm and the pebble

became inseparable.

I knew I could no longer live without it.

The sea would have to swallow us


This is not a parable.

Walk far enough and you will find us:

a pebble on a palm on the shore.


Maria Cohut is a writer, independent researcher, and science communicator based in Brighton, U.K. Her writing has appeared in the Haiku Journal, The Found Poetry Review, Eunoia Review, and Doll Hospital Journal, among others. She also blogs about life and her love of all things bizarre at Encyclopaedia Vanitatum. On Twitter, she can be found @mariascohut.


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