Yemeni Death Beach
walking parallel to the brine
the sand is infecting a cut in my foot
part sediment, part pulverized bone and flesh
eroding, withering
slowly
I think
Jesus, I've never seen a dead body before and
keep walking, the Indian
Ocean is majestic and the air is dense with
dead fish and summer warmth
jogging now, half expecting to meet
an open-armed goddess in translucent white when
more bones
this one was a little boy; I gently take the beaded
necklace from his skull, put it on, and keep
going
(I must keep going)
the blood on my foot
is either mine or theirs, I'm scared
but the waves, the waves calm me down
speak to me in rippling meters, tell
me to forget what I am seeing
they say
it's a dreammmmmm
my beach is gorgeous and innocent
people are only good to one anotherrrrr
but what they mean is clandestine
buried, buried in the brine
among the bones, the blood, the foreign
languages that will never be intelligible, bottled
up with a model ship and last breaths
floating
towards
the east, where I'm told the sun rises
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