The Ammonite

November 21, 2012
Such wonderful creatures
The past divulges.
What secret do you hold,
Tiny whorl of shell?
How did you live
In those antediluvian seas?
What beasts you faced,
What storms you braved!

They come to my beach,
Top hats and coattails,
And look over the rocks at me
In my plain dress.
They shake their heads.
But in truth, in nature,
There is no upper class,
Yet they stay blind.

The other women
Leave the rocky shores,
Discover the men of their dreams.
I make more profound discoveries
Than they can imagine
From behind their whitewashed fences,
Their fancy lace and ribbons.

A timeworn man looks at me
Through his spectacles, and asks
If I know I excavate lies,
Tells me that God would not want
Me to be doing this.
The old fool doesn’t know
What God would want—
Which is for me
To dig up the truth.

Little creature, I understand you.
I endure them every day,
But now I look upon your rocky relic
And as they come at me,
All snapping jaws and flapping fins,
I pull back within my shell
And sail onward through my own seas,

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