Gift of Ammonite

by SARAH GIRAGOSIAN

I lose my way again in a chamber
            of ammonite, fossilized helix, a blink           
                        of an eye in time that dizzies my mind back
            to an ancient seabed, to eons of embedment, heat,
and pressure, to this casting of carbonized spiral

in my palm. Every crenulation, every coil
            an excursion into earth’s memory. Listen:
                        if you dip your ear to the bend
            of the ocean floor, you can hear the earth humming.
If you tilt this whorl of stone to the whorl

of your ear, you can hear evolution’s queer refrains,
            its tweaks and adjustments scaled to the frequency
                        of tadpole shrimp, jellyfish, nautilus, and dreams.
            Listen for ruptures in time signature.
Wait the way you waited for her love to arrive.

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