the fruit of long experience. the house of the turtle.
the labyrinth of the nautilus. the sad song of the conch
my whistle. the patience of the stalactite and the stalagmite.
the final stooping. the bowing of the knees.
the taming of the white horse.
the arrival of the boat on the shore.
the teacher finally learning her art of having a family.
the ripeness of everything.
the song of a happy death. the sweetness of a first born.
the tumbling down and rising up of the weed.
the fish steady on the rock beneath the river's rage.
the rugged face. the trembling hand inside my pocket.
the tongue tied under my gritting teeth.
mellowed eyes. the silence of the leaves inside
the room. the raging storm outside.
the poetry of the rain dropping from the ceiling.
a sound sleep. a dirty pillowcase. a broken lock of the room.
mastering the switch of the room when
everything blacks out.
standing alone. leaving the rest of the world.
silence amidst the crowd.
finding myself and saying yes, yes, yes.
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