Type
Poetry

Poem | The oysters roar

Rounds of unshucked applause
bursting from the silt;

for the festival heat, as though
the sun has scraped back this tide;

for the cast-away tyres and steps
in a dark, treeless wood;

for the fluttering white hedges
shifting borders by the hour;

for the tier of salty green fingers
licked by the breeze;

for the baskets of grass
gathering shy feathers;

for my footsteps like crunching jaws;

for slim bones splintering the air;

for the wide banks of twilight
as evening flows between my feet
and deepens;

for the birds that have left us
to brick up their bodies
with rushes and leaves.

so much still, silent applause.

or so many
unruly teeth
snarling

 

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Ben Walter’s stories, essays and poems have appeared in Lithub, Meanjin, The Lifted Brow and many other publications. He is the fiction editor of Island.

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