1–2 minutes
A murmur past
the feeders
Through cold glue to mend
the crevasse
It takes a tectonic
split, his duvet.
To make the winter
a whisper
I will swallow my soup
As you sleep with the pines
Over this stale kitchen
That once
was mine
With needle-nests
stuck in my spine
through these nettled walls
I walk to warm hedgehog brine
In the sink,
insulated
a close pool
of water
arising thin steam
to the dome
Kneaded
in black tea,
I turned to a cave
thawing
Found a big whale
sank senile,
swimming on
below the dripping stalactites
Then dropped to the warmth
to eavesdrop the eels
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