Full Fathom

five my father hears the island language no one but he can understand, moon sound
birthed as pearls

that wash up on the shore, hopelandic, split by wind and salt,
to fabricate

with quartz and calcium, a colony beneath the sea deep inside the coral boy who has my
daddy’s eyes, and mine,

blue waters stripped from Lake Louise, west Canada, so far from here or Iceland’s placid
touchdown, wave through reef.