As We Walk the Land We’ve Tilled along the Coast

You pick lemon basil off the stem—
feed me green beans wet with dew.

In the center of our garden,
there is a fish sculpture of adobe.

It has carved eyes, gills,
a hollow mouth full of stones.

Each is a relic from the ground.
The fish has swallowed earth instead of sea.

I study its broken, puckered lips
opened to sky as though gasping from depths.

That night I dream the stones are eggs.
The fish is a mouth-brooding male.

How often have you cradled me this way—
in the warmth of your kiss, my life between your lips.

The Fish Has Swallowed Earth, poems by Annabelle Moseley
Now available for sale from Amazon

Published by Aldrich Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-0615648774
52 pages

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