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.