By Taylor Franson-Thiel
Take animal in through the spine
Shaken with sego lily unending
marble organs refine pollen to—
( the mythic enters gently )
Twelve white headstones dot the hills
with thirty-one fruit trees bearing
grey-green stones Valleys miracle
The animal has no spine of its own
so god gives it one Bodies are nothing
but exoskeletons for breath
and one day flood plains will flood again—
pink brine coating white homes like blood
Names of the gone inherit nothing but claws
curved spines feathers glistening like topaz
( Named by what land? ) Covered by water
there is no land our temples lay
where fish and birds and raptors once
lived and live no longer
(the animal always had a spine you thought
you should be the one to give? )
Twelve veils drape twelve miracles and
thirty-one temple doors open to starving gulls
writhing pink fish in their beaks
( How death came— more known than the dead )
Taylor Franson-Thiel is the author of Bone Valley Hymnal (ELJ Editions 2025). She is a developmental and editorial coordinator for Poetry Daily, the assistant poetry editor for phoebe and the editor-in-chief of BRAWL. She can be found at @TaylorFranson on Twitter (currently known as X), @taylorfthiel on Instagram, @taylorfthiel.bsky.social on BlueSky, and at taylorfranson-thiel.com.
