Whale Song
by Les
And she wondered at this tendency
to be swallowed by it
like flowing into the open mouth
of a whale and falling asleep
on the bed of its tongue. Memory
is the circumference of a song
radiating from the center
of dying, being born, squalling.
She had chosen none of this,
as no human could influence
the eclipse, the ambit of dawn
or the penumbra of a shadow.
A feeling follows from a premise
and the malady is conclusive
as seawater bursting from its nostrils:
Sometimes one wakes up, in love.
