and my red bones pinned
on the scaffolding
of a ghost white spinal column -

and my skull black eyes
owling out into the night,
my arms, reaching for milky stars
in the shadows -

and the bird I found that day,
cormorant black on the beach,
wings still feathered -

and red-sand bones,
slender vertebrae bleaching
toward the delicate head,
sharp-prong beak,
gaped at the open sky -

and that harbor seal,
a little further down,
carcass ballooning in the wrack line,
turning black leather
beneath salt and seagull runes -

and its decapitated head
tumbled up with each tide,
skin stripped and eyes,
eyes washed pure -

and nostrils, jawbone,
tendril scrolls of worm-path -

and teeth,
wandering off one by one,
to start new lives
among snails,
and broken shells.