Urchin

By Sofija Zovko

when you come to my table,

I will serve you urchin, raw

 

crown cut: an orange blossom

 

you may have it with butter

spread thick on white bread

 

and once you take that first bite,

let me ask you

 

when you eat of my urchin,

 

can you feel the gulls cry against shuttered windows?

can you smell the brine of your skin?

 

can you taste why blue became modro,

why the sea churned until it coloured itself so?