34-37 Degrees South: Easy reading version

I found this jawbone at the sea’s edge
Paris Rosemont
a perfect specimen encased
in stone; just a hint of sawtooth
glinting pearl against charcoal
compressed sediments sandwiching
mineral and bone.
How came you to lie in your seaside
tomb after centuries of voyaging through
amniotic womb cradling your languid hull?
Weightless through time until shipwrecked
you rest your weary head
on pillow of sand and rocky bed at the foot
of cliffs, howling wind-whipped as spiky
tufts of marram grass quiver in awe of
your greatness. Ammonites lay
themselves in sacrificial offering fused
by your side in the hope of hitching
a ride with you into the next life.
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