“When you can throw yourself into That in which no creature dwells, though it be but for a moment, then you shall hear what God says.”
I cannot hear You. I have tried by my own
Failed. Swept the streets.
for a pair of eyes. Speak of worlds
other than my own. Whales. Washes of them. I have
knocked doors. Others’ chests, seeking
the Original. What of.
Am I missing? Far off, faint for
Nearness. Girl has a world. Whales. Nothing
Bed of a truck.
She had string. Lace. Fingers, talking
So I’ll open her up. Bed of a truck.
What is it I am taking. Breath? But
I breathe. And I breathe.
Worlds I cannot enter Whale of her.
Ask me, do I want her. Yes.
Nothing breaks free when their spirit hangs to another and not you.
I walked, well, Whaled myself into a chest and found nakedness.
I am tired, she said.
I said Give.
Kill me then.
So I said, fine. Kept her eyes.
Lest I lay down and break open this piece of wood. Her whale.
I Will that I am God speaking to You, now split bone
by bone into my own. I spoke
to the field, said, Bloom. I said,
be my blood and keep the chest, I said,
understand, I am your ground. I am in you and through you,
shoots of blades will place their offerings.
Then she was gone, to that Otherplace, where That dwells.
Well, she said.
Why build a temple to nowhere?
Tie me to the truck.
And that is their right, I said.
That is the right of the children to keep their hills and speak their caves into mouths of Dead. Caves of children, asking the sky to be their secret holder. Hold the secrets. Whatever I say, I Will and I Will this to be true. I will my mind to be a mountain on which I sacrifice this child whom I will set free.
Love. Love stands a shadow next to me. Asks me things,
where are you going?
To the market. I will buy a dozen eggs. And in those eggs I will place my script.
What have you writ?
I Writ this. And with that, That expanded its belly into me, and she was mine.
Whatever you want. I said, Get in the truck.
I will split her body like wood where you said I’d find You.
You said I’d ask and the doors would open. I am.
I said, Let me see your Whale, girl.
This is what it feels like to pray and not hear a single word—
Tear her open. Look
for You in shouting,
What did I do?
Keep still. Shouting.
She said, I’m tired. What you got to eat?
Can I have a little light?
She said, I have a Whale. Salt in my eyes.
Lord, we must be salt of the earth or else cast under.
I asked her chest and it answered in a pool of water.
Is this your ocean?
Whale. Is it?