And if I did mean something
coded: water
I can’t walk on,
coastline charred from another
nameless fire blazing
a red wood,
photographs
recovered in the ocean
off an archipelago,
preserving for posterity
the dinghies and the sheep.
And if I did tell you
to describe for me
the colors of those waters
as if it meant something,
make it mean something:
light parting the salted
depths like a ring
of teeth piercing
a dark plum.
Hold it there.
At the skins.
Take me
back through the years
towards the brightest edge.
Hannah Bonner is the author of Another Woman (EastOver Press 2024). She lives in Philadelphia.