Inlet

I could recognize this coastline
anywhere,
the rough heel of hundred year old flows,
and the way olivine hums free
from igneous channels.

If I laid you against
the simple curvature
of shore
would your collarbones
meet the inlets,
would your pelvis
frame the sea?

Would we know each other,
the way I know
this corner of the pacific,
as if we too,
were the framework of an island,
built up in heavy anvils
worth of rock.