Bone, Rock, Then Ash
Tramping over the bed of a long gone ocean
we hear the echoes of her sad, old sea shanties
swirling in the dusty spindrift, caught up in the slipstream
We are here to sink wells deep into her steep slopes.
Breaking through that high shale and in to cobbled firmament
of black basalt. Tapping and peering down into the skylight.
We are interlopers
Interrupting a sleeping household! Drilling and drilling finally
we break through and find a nurturing fossil cradling her
dry child. A distrubed relic unfolds her arms slowly, gingerly
like any doting mother
giving up her only son, tangled in her apron strings, giving him up
into the hands of strange suitors. Beneath tons of hot sunlight
a fire opal shines anchored in the forehead of the Sun.
Here, it's always bone, rock, then ash.
Dirk James lives in San Leandro, California where he worships Jehovah God and his son, Jesus Christ. Dirk loves putting the finishing touches to a poem or a story, relaxing with his Beautiful Wife/Muse while sipping Pina Coladas and listening to jazz music on the box. He has been published in many literary journals including Shot Glass Journal.