A Skull On The Beach

It’s sitting next to me
like it’s supposed to be there.
Below a wall of beach grass.
I can’t tell what creature
it come from.
A person or an
animal.
I can’t tell what creature
I am.
It bursts into laughter
until I realize
that’s me;
I’m laughing;
there’s also music.
There’s music, though
I hear no music, laughing
from the grass, within
the cotton belts of the sea’s top.
What happens to me here?
What is this place supposed to be?
What is it supposed to mean?
Then I feel
my head in someone else’s hands.
The skeleton within my body
has no sense of humor. It does not
laugh, smile or do much of anything, really.
Is that me?
My body is full of the light of air too,
the hands are the hands of a
mother, the skull is uncovered.
And the ocean pulls off my pants.