oyster bar

by Peach Delphine

1)

creek spoke of you, of what waited downriver,

faces freshly shucked, ponderous current, turbid

body, where pines wake each day singing ash, ash, ash

2)

we dream in the darkest tongue, conversant with old

reptiles hauled out on sand and marl, memory turned

to flesh, turned to flowering within trunk, heart drinks deep,

pulling water through karst, palms lifting great fans of verdure, scar was word itself, thumping

hydraulics

3)

you say sky tastes sharp, morning glories separate day

from night flowering ribbons, phosphorescent

entanglement, fox barking in my sleep tells of sea fog,

a chorus of making, a long breath before the naming

of all mangrove encompasses

4)

the great tongue of ocean licks its eye, the unblinking

gaze of sea, of salt, of cloud and its concealed naming,

speaking of moon as stone, as mineral reflection,

mirroring star, you ask me of weather, pressing hand

to my lips, something other than words you seek

within chattering wind, other than tide flowing

through our hands, ibis gather to begin the scour,

slack water a pause in the deep pulse