Artifact

Whelk
shell
turns its
boney self,
its hard knobbly back,
to the blue and needy ocean.
From where it came and when , darkly and deep, forever
rising and falling; ho'ar of hushed ancients, forlorn, calling to this stoney shore.
Listen to the shape of the Vitruvian breakers
in the spiralling bone hollow.
The shell's inner ear,
fades to pink,
whispers;
save
me.