Marshall Islands
 

1.

Frangipani protect their white core
with long, green shields.
Each is ridged with the yellow spine of a fish
sprouting from branches
knobbed and coral-brittle.

That morning, the sun burst open.
Hot wind ate their breath
and all the clouds in the world
clenched into a fist of fire.

Later, kids cried out
"there are feathers falling from the sky!"
They danced till their skin grew white
as if they had rolled in dust.
The young girls sniggered
their sailors had told them
a thing or two: this was snow.
That year, the old women dreamed
of fish crawling from the lagoon
on soft white legs.

After the snow
which laced the grey shields of frangipani
and the dark storm of birds
they dreamed of a child who danced
with the stubs of coral for limbs
and the eyes of a worm.
But the women will no longer speak
of what this might mean.
 

2.
Woman from Rongelap

When I was certain
I bit into his neck
and told him
'you're my man now,
true.'
He brought me fish for the sickness
saying 'it's often like this.
It will pass.'

He came in from the sea
to the voices of women
crying for a lost child.
But what tore from me
in wrenching pain
and blood almost black
was not something I can describe.
It had no human burial.

 

Rebecca Edwards

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