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Day 17: Tupelo Press 30/30 Poetry Project ( National Poetry Month)


after the tsunami on 3/11/2011 

Again, blue dusk 

fills my broken house. A sleek 
sturgeon is still dead in my backyard.

“Let’s remove it and build a new house,” I say.

I always wanted long 
hemp curtains. I am looking through them, 

waiting for my sister. Her 

cancer is spreading to her bones 
and brains. She is not 

yet in the drawer in the hospital. I cut off 

the fins and tail. The spine is hard, 
but the skin is like a gigantic rubber 

doll. Once I got it from the summer 
festival. When I squeezed it, 

my fingers were dyed 

dark blue.

I touched my sister’s cheeks. We run miles 
and miles along the seashore 

screaming an old nameless song.

Seagulls fly above me 
when the spine drops on the sand.

The sturgeon’s abdomen is white, 
but it slowly turns into muddy red.

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