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