Unraveling

Carried in current 

seaward from Port Townsend Bay 

in the funnel fast lane 

where runaways hitch and

castaways congregate 

until the sea spins them ashore – 

    not wood buoyant
    not dog-headed seal
    not otter sleek
    not alive.

A stream dweller far from home,  

grandfather-big beaver 

swept into a sea burial.

Orange gnawing teeth, paddle tail, 

nimble fingers, webbed feet,

of no use now.

Tides in and out, tumble   

tenderize, release purpose.

Compact muscles disband

inside a battered pelt,  

wholeness undone ‘till 

only bones remain

for a beachcombing kid’s

discovery. Wrestled free

from rocks, a dirty white      

stout, fang-studded skull.

In her hands, it’s story    

the last bit to unravel.