The sculpted shape my life makes, its carved impression into what surrounds, is small
while the details divide and multiply on close inspection, more
complication, more busy function
–
my shape fits snug into the around, much as a ring on my finger, the worm or lion in their notch
of food chain, a stubborn outcrop of rock
holds against an unseeing whole
–
of ocean, watch – it licks us away slow, each mundane gesture of survival here is an overcoming
forebeared, the ocean tastes us with all the time of a world
everything swallowed returns, our forms
–
forged in connection, rejection, bleating its strangely affecting feline chords the sea
returns our forms to the wordless, from where
we, scraped and molded, emerge.
Original poem and image by Lee Jane Taylor
Sky House Poetry 