A horse sinks deep into a swamp of sadness
but {comes back from it}. We
didn’t. In open water,
altruism is a pod of orcas coming together
to separate baleen
calf from mother. Good faith
is the drowning {of that young whale}
for nearly six hours, for love
is exhaustion until she
has to swim away,
& commitment,
the first bite the first orca takes
while baby is still gasping.
Even non-true fish,
who lack jaws and swim blind at the bottom,
evolve by flesh. {The problem is}
you sink to the sea floor
until it crushes us.
Every day the wind steals
other wind from our sails & the horse
sinks deeper into a single grain of sand.
You say I have to keep my feet on the water.
That nothing can gift you flight,
that most ultra
-marine of belief,
no matter how unyielding
the nothingness might be.
& still the horse
breaks {through}. Because the horse has pinned me
alive & twisting
until we are winged
amulet. Call my
name. There is no eternity
where air is enough {to love
& commit}. Because grace is waiting
to pick the first fight & if we
are going to die anyway, wouldn’t you rather die giving
a new name. Speak now. You’ve already chosen it.
from Poetry Northwest Summer & Fall 2018 More by Rosebud Ben-Oni from the library
Copyright © Rosebud Ben-Oni
Used with the permission of the author
on behalf of Poetry Northwest.