|
       
|
|
"Jonah" by Jan Sand 2008-02-24 10:00:37 |
Print - Comment - Send to a Friend - More from this Author |
  
 |
Having survived past the teeth And tumbled, confused, in panic Down the slimy throat beneath, I now reside in this organic Heaving place of strange smells Divorced from stormy seas (No different from monks in cells Sequestered, bereft of keys).
Far below where digestions ensue, Strange soft wet sounds are made Which offers me the clue It's a place I should evade, Full of destructive chemistries. I will hang my hat up here And avoid the organic mystery That keeps this whale in gear.
I must, of necessity, subsist On seaweed and raw fish - Not much else. This is the gist Of my nourishment. I would wish, At least once more, to taste A crust of dry fresh bread. This seems of small chance. I must exercise my jaws, be fed Upon whatever that huge maw grants.
Within these soft pulsating walls I live by touch in dark gloom. Sometimes faintly, I hear seabird calls. I have small future to presume. I sketch my thoughts on black designed. I wonder on a Deity who could Drop me to dark dungeon consigned. Have I been so thoroughly ungood?
Ah well! I wonder now my destination. Will I live my life whale encased, Chewing octopus in endless mastication? Or shall I tumble inward to be erased And incorporated into this beast, No more to view tilled fields and the sky. I would hope my God would grant, at least, His reasons for this grotesque end. Please, why?
Ovi_magazine Ovi-lehti Poetry poetry |
|
Print - Comment - Send to a Friend - More from this Author |
|
|
|