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Beached Bones... in progress

Beached Bones


We searched for bones on the beach
broken and scattered, like our own.
We found bits and pieces in the sand
scarred and glistening, oozing oil
still unbleached by salt and exile.

We’ve been looking for our bones
between the hot sky and the tall grass
for all these years, you and I.

We’ve been collecting them, shining them,
hanging them on hooks and strings,
pressing them against our skin,
listening for an echo that would explain
the gold in your hair and the slant of my eyes,
longing for a story beyond
this wearying deception
of naming and being named.

We hid all these teeth and vertebrae
in your pockets, not wanting to lose them
again in the blue anonymity of the sea.

Quiet

Quiet


I am quiet.
But here is my secret:
When immersed in sunshine
I rush upward in a blooming burst of colour
I am shaped like bright freedom
There are wild songs in me.

I am quiet
But I smell like defiance
And my hands leak lightning.
There is a tree growing in my belly
That bears ripe, wet stars.
Its sap clings to my skin.

I am quiet
But there is an ocean in me
That roars louder than this poem.