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Sadhbh Goodwin, Ireland

350 million years old, you lie, still as a graveyard, since
you are a graveyard, in some sense,
the final resting place of all the creatures
that laid down their tired heads on the seabed and under the weight of an entire ocean
became you
you with tombstone clints and grikes that go down and down, and don't stop going down
Skin pockmarked by centuries of carbonisation and
beneath your surface you are catacombed with an ants’ nest cave system,
stone stomach bulging with swarm, driven deeper by a frenzied trickle.
I hopscotch down your stone spine and a twisted ankle would be worth the pain since
you can taste both the sky and the sea from up here!
Butterwort dearest pick me like a wildflower, calcify me
cold amongst the orchids and the kaleidoscope of ghost-coral.
And when finally, I am still,
lay my bones down on the seabed
so, that in millions of years to come I will be a part of something so much bigger
than I ever could have imagined.
And I'll oversleep the Anthropocene ten times over, but the day will come
When I'll will my limestone joints awake and rise, grey giant, I'll plod through the heather
to the highest point around
And survey this burial site through ammonite eyes
I will lift my heavy heavy hands to the sky, and I'll smile,
Heralding in a new epoch

Sadhbh Goodwin is a poet from Galway, Ireland. Their poetry has been published the the Irish Independent newspaper, Wild Words anthology and featured as poem of the week on Headstuff.org. They are a currently studying English in University College Cork.