Her nose knew this smell. The people. The men. Men. Men took the trees. Men made them hot and orange. Men would touch the trees to make them glow in the night. The trees began a new life that filled ... [+]
There is a place by the ocean,
a burial site for flesh and steel
beasts
where mast meets cross
and mermaid bowsprit conspires
with moss-choked stone angel.
The insects falter in their
primordial dance,
missteps of appendages
and antennae.
They nibble on salt-corroded metal
and nestle in rot-sweet chest cavities.
And there, below the ground,
paying the baffled insects no mind,
the ship and human bones
waltz on.