By TINA CLARK

We find you coiled on yourself,

A clef note left in the sand,

We find you abandoned, an empty case

Which once held chords and organs,

The melody of a hidden life.

Years ago, you composed

Your movements to the rhythm

Of the earth’s fleshy core,

The pulse felt deep beneath the seafloor.

We press your hollow chambers

To our ears, and still hear each note rise

And fall, a body of music

A chorus of lost voices.

This article was published in the Winter 2012 issue of Coastwatch.

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