top of page

Sam Bellamy


Brackish water. River into gaping

ocean. You taught me how

to split open an oyster.


When you eat it,

you are eating the whole animal.

It dies inside of you.


There was something about the way

your lips touched the shell.

Two habitats meeting. A slipping.


I tried to show you how

I could unhinge it

in one smooth go.


You were distracted by the marvel

of eating from the water

you swam in.


We threw the empty vessels

back into the marsh.

Overfished reef. Seagrass meadows.


A tidal mouth is a door

ajar. There was so much

dripping down your chin.


I wanted you to tell me

I was sweet and went down easy.

Photo - Sam Bellamy.png



Sam Bellamy was born and raised in Brooklyn, NY. They hold an MFA in Creative Writing from the City College of New York, and currently teach undergraduate composition at City College and Lehman College. They can be found at

Bear Review


bottom of page