by whale after whale. I've learned that Jonah
means dove in Hebrew. And doves can be dirty,
obstinate sailors. Mourning doves
used to sit outside my window and coo
incessantly. I ran through the yard screaming
to scare them away. Then all I heard was
the wing whistle of takeoff.
What I want to do is flee
from where I'm asked to go. I want to test
your patience with me, to swim
right into the whale and hope
you'll come in too, to sit with me a while.
We could have such laughs,
echoing our voices against giant ribs.
We could sing hymns
and wonder if the whale could hear them,
could understand what a soul is.
We might never want to be saved,
to be spat out from the warmth
of the one place where even God
lets you hide.
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