This sound, a riproar,
like the ocean against the rocks,
the tide trying to take me away,
pulling at my feet and my arms –
To where the whale bones lie,
I cling to their ribs as if they were my bones,
as if they were my own flesh,
as if a decade where only a minute.
I find I can breathe without air,
that the lungs were never necessary,
and that the sun was always hiding
the small things in front of me.