Whale Bones
That night we were in the ocean,
wonder cresting and breaking over me,
the crescent moon sailing on tides of spilled light,
its sails filled with a bitter wind.
You were the oceanic phantasm,
who left me yearning for more.
But as the sun shone
golden through the seam,
you had flown away.
I am left on the encrusted shore alone,
with whale bones and a bottle, emptied of spirits,
with no message.
Sorrow whistles through the bones
and by my wasting fire I weep,
binding my silent wounds.
Melissa Chappell is a poet residing in South Carolina where she leads a rural lifestyle on land passed down through her family for over 120 years. She enjoys spending time in the woods. She is also musical and is a novice player of the eight course Renaissance lute, along with the piano and guitar. She shares her life with her family and two miniature schnauzers.
