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Archeology
by Alli MartelHe says a coelacanth stirs
each moment we're alone,
long and slow: something old
below the surface, timeless,
unknown. I am present,
I think,
as he speaks of long-ago
extinctions, fossils
dug with fingers smudged
in dirt. I experience
him similarly, spiral
ammonites of past lovers
hiding beneath the hard
sedimentary layers, only
my skeleton knowing
death is rediscovery. 11/21/2011 Posted on 11/22/2011
Copyright © 2024 Alli Martel
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Jody Pratt on 11/22/11 at 09:33 PM Best poem I've read so far today. :) |
| Posted by Rob Littler on 11/22/11 at 10:42 PM Some skeletons we can't bury. I like the once extinct past always coming about again. You have a marvelous play on making the past present, which it always is...more like now and not now in my understanding. Thanks! |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 12/03/11 at 09:28 PM This is very well done! Thanks for the read. |
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