O ocean-bashed
quartz I unearth

on this unpeopled
shore, O rock

that festers
in a weepy-eyed socket

of sand—confess!
Were you

an adze-head once,
long ago?

In my fist, your chiseled
heft throbs

with old crime.
Does the skull

I envision buried
below (Bronze Age,

Neolithic) show
the scars of your

rage, or did it
cave in from

too much silt
and complaint?

Let me re-hone
your edge to hack

at sequestered
guilt; burnish your

face to a mirror’s
impeachment; wield

and fling your
untried conviction.

The gash you make
in the surf,

where you strike,
hollows and

hallows. I, too,
would testify,

wanting a tongue.