by Carrie A. Purcell



786.7:
Abnormal Chest Sounds

I have thumped upon thine chest
but the treasure within long left it

you carried Aztec gold
and a monkey

you carried mildewy maps
and your mother’s castoff blankets

you remain true
to form but empty

let’s let down a lead plumb line
to scrape up bits off your bottom

see how far down you go,
sailor, stowing songs yard arm under

listen to your fathoms
find your level of pollution

your old ships’ ribs rotting
in dangerous harbors

heart of city dredged
of silt for barges to sound out passage

it should have alarmed me
your bell toll tormented then tabled

swim all the narrow channels
at one thousand eighty-seven feet per second

swim all the channels that separate
fling out your breast bone as you dive

sing out your peculiar sounding voice
your only voice your voice belonging to only you

*Photo courtesy Adam Sowers.