Shells - A Poem

Shells

Marriage is a shell,

a space for sound.

You can be standing right there

on the edge of the sea

but you'll have marriage

cupped to your ear, 

rushing through you like 

the swell of soft-closing doors 

in another room

as you squeeze your thighs

into tired old jeans,

the wet sucking sound 

of rubber on gravel

as he backs out 

of the drive on Sundays, always leaving

white noise inside

the silence, a scratching 

of vows under the arched eaves

of your semi-detached, 

the sound in your head

like hand-stitched lace

trailing on dry paper, incessant 

as sea foam frothing 

on the rocks,

bold as mice spooring

on the lawn.

by Nina Couser

This poem won 2nd prize in the Pen Nib International Writing Competition 2021 

*to spoor = to track or trail an animal or person

Nina Couser

When I wrote this poem, I was thinking about all the ways that love can change, morph or even die.  Shells are what we collect on days by the beach, which can be happy times, but often be lonely times of reflection.  When the love is gone, sometimes what we're left with is just the memory of the sound.  The empty echoes hurt us more than any words spoken.