Oakley Merideth

Oakley Merideth imageChild Exploring a Skeleton’s Rib Cage
(underpass beneath Baseline at Boulder Creek after the flood when it was filled with sand and white foam)

The cathedral is a bone. The spirit is a bone. I have awoken
in the last place you remembered to breathe before suffocation made a parody of your life.
After a while I grow tired of prayer and my knees get lost in the sand and the temple
sways itself far and away from any space or time or earth where oxygen is
a stalactite that pierces your breath in sweet snorkels of smoke pumped up and out
of the same mouth that never before uttered. Something of you still fleshes–
the slack pouch of your lungs
——————————-in my arms
—————————————–is a better pillow than my skull could ever hope to be.