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Beached

Carrying the water I saved today

in the leaky cup of my hands,

I approach Earth,

beached on her belly

but stirring slightly

in a miserable wind.

As high on one side as I can reach

I let my pittance spill

down the cracked blue skin,

careful of her blowhole,

and I think her squint eye’s moon

rolls to see more,

but a hurricane clouds the pupil,

ringed with smoke on fire.

from Debt to the Bone-Eating SnotflowerFind it in the library

Copyright © 2013 Sarah Lindsay
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Copper Canyon Press.

Published in Poems Sarah Lindsay

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