Friday, February 19, 2010

The Whale

Trapped in the belly of the whale

Where the pigeons fly like doves

All left of women a few stray hairs

Orange warning lights

And pinocchio's faded grafitti

This belly where sequined walls

Catch the gleam of torches

That men use to read tales of Nazi heroics

Before consigning them to flame


Their shadows are the words that write themselves

At night they whisper of lost continents

Of bones that lie in fur and pine

Those Men who live inside the whale

Safe from the ever rising

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