lola lemire tostevin, from "For Peter"

vacant mouths gaping on the shelf  sallow skull

of the eastern moon minus its black tongue  bivalve

sunrise unhinged  hollowed red tooth shell  the closing

of their form postponed  (it is because there are empty

spaces we are able to use them)

as a child I believed everything ever said would be heard

again  the slow accretion of every word  every sound

as in the conch my aunt kept against her living room door

when pressed to the ear the far-off roar of an island

a muffled heart  a droning of no song