Lynne Ellis

Shore Body

Beach stones lie back on each other
in the ecotone, speaking an old 
language I feel in my organ core 
even when asleep. Gravel syntax spreads 
inside me: a rumble, a landslide, a path 
from mantle to mountain uplift to ebb tide. 

My lifetime: too short to learn how to erode. 
When the land responds to ocean touch
it clatters pleasure. Rip currents tongue 
the curves of jasper, quartz, agate.
I can hear rock teeth chatter in the quick 
space of naked air between the waves.

Rest here, Beloved, all else can wait.
Hiss, hiss, hush, hissurruss, there is still time.

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