BY GRETCHEN ROCKWELL
after Jericho Brown
Cathedral of bones, slowly eaten by worms.
I can’t believe I’m living in the future.
My future bright, I still memento mori—
my therapist would call that a problem.
My therapist wouldn’t describe the
decomposing leviathan as brought low,
says: behemoths rot in the deep waters,
and we’re fortunate to have found one.
We can find and witness miracles
if we're willing to dredge the abyss.
To dredge your own depths is abysmal,
but you'll find life cradled in your ribcage.
Look again: arching ribs shelter swarms of life,
sanctuary building itself from scarred bones.
Gretchen Rockwell is a queer poet currently living in Scotland. Xe is the author of the forthcoming chapbook Lexicon of Future Selves (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press) and two microchapbooks; xer work has most recently appeared in AGNI, perhappened mag, Whale Road Review, and elsewhere. Gretchen enjoys writing poetry about gender, history, myth, science, space, and unusual connections – find xer at www.gretchenrockwell.com or on Twitter at @daft_rockwell.