no one is talking about,
not since I stopped believing
in the power of words to
give birth to my dreams.
Like Jonah. Swallowed. Smelling
like krill slime sticking to the
walls of a soft, rubbery bladder,
all I can see is the darkness
of my ignorance. I grope around
like a beetle turned on its shell.
spinning around
the stainless floorboard.
I awoke in the belly of a poem
