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I had no names to blazon their tender

curves, their riverine curves

so took the ones we inherit: auricle

to name the human bloom—

what does it mean, amputee?

lobed trumpet that listens to the oracle

of cymballed world: canal & drum

vestibule to the oceanic home

where windows are elliptical & circular

is there such a thing as “orphan”?

& we host a motion labyrinth, a squid.

Maleus, incus, stapes. Cover your ears

dear child, your cartilage is not yet hard—

it’s too soon to know to hear is to bend.

Your silk purses will sow the wind.

Your flexible shells haul their own ocean.