Julie Tonkinson resides in Seattle where she was born and raised. She is an artist, graphic designer, and poet. In her spare time she enjoys learning permaculture and growing vegetables.
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Dragging anchor
After twenty hours of traveling home,
I was a caught koi, floppy, fleshy,
and unblinking wide eyes.
Still freshly wrung out by a man
whose fingers were unable
to be woven with mine.
When things like this sputter out,
I leave, dragging anchor.
Japan didn’t instruct me in anything
I didn’t already know heavily:
Water gets colder the longer
you don’t move, bobbing around.
This thick skin I should have
is a paltry paper screen,
and holding hands is a shrine.
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ISACOUSTIC* 