If the Sea Bed Shakes in the Gulf of Alaska

Abigail Cabitnoy

 

a wave in a well

in Death Valley triggers

fish to spawn

out of season.

 

It follows

if a deity in the desert

reshapes the bones

of the dead

there is one in the sea

for the living.

 

Soil conceding

to sea each

new catastrophe—

 

The fish that washed up were cut

& fit with metal to join soft plates

they outgrew

                            but if the body didn’t float

                        does it follow they’re still

swimming?

 

Don’t imagine there’s nothing

underneath.

 

        ∂

 

                           At the water

I found in place

of shells

small bones & smaller gears

brass the size of buttons

from a soldier’s coat

bullet casings

instruments for hearing

from my cupped palm

the size of my fists.

 

I held each

to my body

where evident of

some lacking

divisions could be

felt—blood fr bone

fr bone fr

muscle fr sinew

stretched far enough

for game to pass

through

 

                         I held these

holes growing

in my own

lessening

I heard

each calculated sigh each

approaching vessel

could feel the

waves

              setting

all my parts in motion

knew the cracks in my bones

 

were not for filling

 

the cracks in my bones

were for

                  opening

like gunshot

                          like

shell

dropped

 

by clever birds

 

the cracks in my bones

 

were for

                   ringing out

the cracks in my bone

 

were for

                   singing