Death as Art

Image by Glenn Buttkus


Death as Art

Those beautiful sea shells we covet,
use as mementos, toys, currency, abstract art
and decor are the sarcophagusal remnants
of a marine mollusk, the exoskeleton left behind
after death, the armor, the wearable cocoon created
by an invertebrate who could excrete calcium
as a waste product, some busy urchin undersea
architect creating its own keep, sculpting it
one ring at a time, hard-edged, building on the bias
with tiny minarets at the peaks, expanding point
by swirl, smeared with color, no two shells identical,
floating empty on the tide for us to discover, to liberate
from the lagoon white sand cemetery, from the
company of others long departed, so that it may
adorn some sill, excite some shelf, hide in some drawer
in our home, in our life, so that we may adore it when it
catches our eye, or speaks to us, suggesting that we
touch it, rub it, and hold it to our good ear, allowing
us to recall the wistful womb slosh just beyond
the threshold of our recall.

Glenn Buttkus

June 2011

Listed as #41 over on Magpie Tales 69

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