Beach Glass
Wrap your hand around
the beach glass in your
pocket, seafaring
meteorite washed
up from another
galaxy, this cool
lozenge squeezed by
degrees from deep within
the shoulder of a
wave, eased glistening
onto packed sand, glint
of sunlight driving
a splinter through your
eye.
Why me you ask?
the hollow of your
palm exquisitely
matched to its polished
contours, sculpted seed
ordained, sea vast on
your tongue in holy
communion, body
and the blood bottled
in blown green glass, a
sign cast up from the
belly of a whale
or nothing more than
a worn world weary
vagabond drawn to
this lightning stung beach.
Fused sand skeletons
writhe in recognition.
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