Shaped like clenched knuckles;
Shrimp-pink and ivory,
Pale like whalebone,
Tightly bound as a corset,
The ringlet of bone twisted and curled
Resting on a cusp of foam.
After its travails through currents and grottoes
And the empire of crustaceans,
The staircase of its core
Curled like an inner ear,
Attuned to the sounds of a salty home,
As the puppeteer moon
Twitched the waves
And the indecipherable tides.