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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