Pores of the Earth

Pores of the Earth

by Kylee Bustard

The mountain giant slumbers near the sea.

Her skin of silver moss¹ and jewel orchids

bloom as fast as youthful Pele² can gather the

green beads of her grapevine locks.

Her face spans a rocky plain and her dimple a crater.

The depression flares—

molten pus pours from her pores;

Lava spills in streams, searing her soil and charring her cheeks.

Callused clunky fingers try to slow the flow,

Only to burst the welts of fire at every touch.

Her tears come like soft rain,³ soothing the pain,

Flooding the skeletal scene.

She weeps; the rock cools.

Obsidian scars blemish her face like a battlefield.

Over centuries, her tears soften the harshest marks,

Eroding the igneous rock into sand and soil for the ohi’a lehua.⁴

Footnotes

¹ A plant common to the Hawaiian landscape. These fine strands of silvery green are locally associated with Pele’s hair.

² Hawaiian goddess. Creator and destructor of the Hawaiian Islands. Deity of fire and volcanoes.

³ In reference to the short story “There Will Come Short Rains” written by author Ray Bradbury.

⁴ Hawaiian native trees that emerge from lava rock.