It curves its lips. It must be a mouth.
It closes its lids and wriggles its opening. It rocks its bottom.
There are eyes and nostrils on its “face”
And a round protruding coccyx
It circles around the meadow with a noticeable limp.
And meets an untimely end when mistaking deer for mountain lions.
The sign on the poplar tree
A traffic sign blown by the wind
Hanging like a ripe fruit
Spiraling down with dew
The mammal impediment
Sometimes when misreading the signs
Of recognizable life
I see the action of a sign
The internalized pasture
The moving spark
The shark’s fin means something to the wandering man
The cloud says something to the lark
And I’m left hesitant by barking dogs
Whose nostrils respond to my moving uphill
Mental levels as spectrum of the real
The circular frequency of interaction between points
The return of the signal, the emitting response
The difference the sign makes
“One stone can alter the whole ocean”
I imagine his head bowing to the limits of the earth
The ocean is full of petals
Ungraspable tentacles and dreams
Convex and concave reflections
Oceans of abbreviated selfhood
Blobs of being in rock fissures
Centrifugal and centripetal forces
Conglomerates of competing intentions
Reproduction and feeding as purpose
Bioluminescent fishes in chromatic waters
The child in the feedback caress sparring with the shell’s concreteness asks about the relationship of
today and tomorrow’s shell. The shell remembered and revisited.
She knows the first shell was not the first realized shell.
Originally from Portugal, Isabel Sobral Campos spent the last decade on the east coast and recently moved to Butte from Brooklyn. Her poetry has appeared in Horseless Press, Bone Bouquet, Gauss PDF, and Gobbet, to name a few. No, Dear and Small Anchor Press recently published her debut chapbook: Material.