\n<\/p>\n
\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
They name me Cleaver, though I am no hand,
\nbut the patient edge of centuries,
\na blade honed by the Southern swell,
\nby wind that tastes of iron and kelp.<\/p>\n
I split the dolerite as kin are split \u2014
\nnot in malice, but in the slow necessity
\nof tide and time,
\neach fracture a journal of what was kept,
\nand what was carried away.<\/p>\n
Below, the broth seethes \u2014
\nfoam thick as ghost\u2011milk,
\nsteam rising in the blowhole\u2019s gasp,
\nas if the earth itself were cooking
\nits old, unspoken griefs.<\/p>\n
I have swallowed anchors,
\nand the names tied to them;
\nI have heard the rope\u2011burnt prayers
\nof those who dangled over my mouth
\nto glimpse the churn,
\nand felt their shadows
\nslip into my keeping.<\/p>\n
Yet I am also a joiner \u2014
\nmy spray salts the air
\nthat drifts inland to the gum\u2011roots,
\nwhere descendants breathe it in,
\nunaware they are tasting
\nthe same brine
\nthat once sealed their forebears\u2019 lips.<\/p>\n
Stand at my rim, and I will
\nshow you the ledger\u2019s two columns:
\none for the living,
\none for the gone \u2014
\nand between them,
\nthe thin, wet line
\nwhere I keep the knife.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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