skulls

in damp soil near
the swamp

I buried the small body
of a honeyeater

I carried its
body to
the soil

cradled its
fading beingness

so tiny
so enormous

against my
heart

my thumb
stroked
the hardness
of
its
tiny
skull

. . . .

now

I touch
my hand
to the back
of
my
skull

where it drops
away
towards
my
vertebra

the memory
of that same
structure

in the tiny skull
of a small bird
reverberates
through
me

. . . .

our sameness

even in death
vibrant

brain
gut
eyes
limbs
mouth like
me

this tiny being
has always
been
me

. . . . 

now

I lower
its body

from heart
to soil
its beingness
and this land
flies

into
me

—

© Greer Taylor | June 2021