the sea fossils are singin again up in the hills where the roads being cut spongy tongues exposed to light by dieseled steel go ssssshhhhh sssssshhhhh while shovel mouth shears off 50 million years from shoulder of sloping scarp flung rocks of marine sand rise in a wave of dust in the past this place was sea the high hills the coast sea memory just beneath the surface the high tide of the Cretaceous uncorked to rise and haunt the present some sea tongues are shorn at angles by excavator teeth they sing a song garbled by time and steel when the quendas were lobster the banksia anemone and the kangaroos were rays the earthmover’s song is loud and strong burning bodies roar in its cylinders hissing pistons scream and shriek metal fists bashin on the skull of Country rhythmic rumbles drowning out the drowned my own tongue is cut snipped from my mouth but i sing along the little sea creatures that became stone are laughing at me cut tongues spraying sand all of us chokin on the words we’re all singin up in the hills where the toothed present consumes both past and future tell me the one about the starfish who with a good soaking of saltwater grew back a severed limb
From: Vol.09 N.01 – A Poetics of Rights
sea fossils
by
Cass Lynch