If mine is a whale song. If down
in the heart is a tunnel. If canary
exists, & yellow flight is possible.
For cowards the mind is a minefield.
If one step forward equals viable
shock, one step back is yes, this too
is false flag, barreling crescendo,
rupture opening. If the wound
is exposed. If it more quickly heals.
If it is consciously covered. If it hides
in plain sight. A trick of the light.
If every new morning is a settlement.
A slow sift and stall. Perhaps a pause
in the great experiment, our backs
against the wall. If we stare down
the barrel. Fight or flight. If we are
a gathering of wind. As if body
was always the only metaphor.
If we gust. Rush. Blast. Squall. Roar.
If we open so wide it is its own
stillness, its own precious resource.
If it is a fullness we feel, and we let
the language of it, and it saves us.