To What is Divine
I lie on a beach in Malibu,
sand pressing asterisks into my back,
the long-dead foam, receding.
Ahead, ginger-root sun buries
behind the horizon,
cinnabar unspooling behind.
My mouth snagged:
chew or praise?
Above, stars scatter
from the ruptured bodies
of their mothers and fathers.
An owl glazed in silver
clamps a crab,
rises above the cliff.
You, spirit who webs my lungs,
are the nucleus that never sees
its own surface. Your tides
wash over the dead
whose breath baptizes me,
my skin opening into mouths
that howl apart the mist.
You rush in, my body
erased from the sand,
forehead breaking open
under your flood.
Nathan Hassall is the 2023–2025 Poet Laureate of Malibu, California, and founder of The Poetry Vessel, a poetry education platform and podcast. His poems have appeared in Luna Luna, Moria, Ghost City Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, and elsewhere. Find more of his work and join his mailing list at www.nathanhassall.com
Amethyst Review 