Earbone by Liam Wilkinson

She holds the whalebone up to the light
until it silhouettes - a black chunk
of skeleton, hugged by our bright electricity.
It’s fifteen million years old. It dwarfs
the nineteenth century mantel with its age,
casts a shadow of colossal time
over the antique clock. And we stare
into the possibility of its life before us,
at a vague shape of what it might have carried,
the great brain it once sat beside.

She turns to me, her eyes glazed by the wonder
of what she holds in her hand
and asks if we can find the rest.

by Liam Wilkinson

Other poems by 'Liam Wilkinson'

Back Bedroom Baroque

The Execution

Election Day Campaign

Our Four Months

The Lunatic

Return To The Esplande

Welcome Here

Djangology

On The Map

Going

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