the sea is called / a body & the children
/ are still dying / so far from here / & here
sometimes / bones rearranged into / drowned
or dragged off skyward / biopsied or blood–
slicked pavement / at night / when the white
pines cut against an un- / white sky / history
moving its mouth / without speaking / my
daughters who are beginning / again to look
like other / like bullets exiting / our country’s
borrowed language / white / language / rage
& hue / what I cannot hold / of them I hold
so close the sea / still a body / aches & sings
its shame / aches & sings & washes clean
all evidence / that to be an echo means once
you wailed / once the sea & sky & white white
stars / & their bodies / still living inside us —
