Chambered Nautilus

It’s from before the spin of human fire,

before the dreaming that grew out of itself,

before there were people who ate the brains

of the dead,

before wind was leaving through a hole in the sky,

before zero and powers of ten,

before nets drifting the empty miles of water,

from when moon was the only tyrant that ruled the sea

and was the god shells rose to at night,

the builder of chambers,

the geometry of light, even infinity

is shaped this way

and the curve of sea lives in it,

the unwritten laws of water,

and it still rises

to the surface of darkness,

the country of drifting,

seeking a new kind of light to live inside,

from when we were less savage than now,

when shells were barter for corn

and cloth, and mirrors,

and we built dwellings of stone.

We were strong.

We were full.

Europeans did not powder our bones

and drink them, believing their powers

would grow

and there were no torturers leaving stone prisons

at night to buy bread and sugar

for their wives.

It was before there were bear-slayers

and slayers of women and land

and belief. We knew earth was a turtle

swimming between stars

and everything that was savage in us

fought to the quick

because everything that lived had radiance

like the curve of water and shell

of whatever animal

still inside

that has brought me here.