In the whale’s stomach:

 t\The three whale poems from the Pinocchio series.

In the whale’s stomach:

                        I

In the darkness

I remember the time before

Ocean.

Before the spluttering candle

we save by burning

only at odd moments –

we have seven matches left

after that the darkness will become

Eternal -

If only the Leviathan

yawned when it rose

to the surface.

Does it dream?

Are its dreams as small

As the krill it swallows in the millions?

And we, merely accidents along the way –

do we impinge upon its thoughts

in the slightest?

The boat Geppetto travelled in

holds up well in the ebb and flow

of life within a stomach.

My wooden legs rot, flesh

does have distinct advantages – even Geppetto’s feet,

at their age, fare better.

                        II

In the stillness

between waves of saltwater

I close my eyes; imagine

the morning sunlight covering

the dusty mountains

of home - night’s galloping shadow

races before the rays,

flowers turn towards the light,

in the distance

the sound of rugs being beaten

by village women

and the squeals of children

in bare feet, their knees

scabby, their noses running,

play soccer with the bladder

of a dead cat in the street.

                        III

Geppetto often holds my hands

and explains how he carved each digit,

shaped the half moon nails,

crafted the elbow and wrist sockets

for movement.

At night

after his lips have blown out the candle

and the sound of the sea

fills the dark cavern

in rhythmic sympathy

he likes to explain

how it feels to have a chest

that within a heart beats.

I know I have missed out

and cannot bring myself to believe

my wooden torso can contain

a soul. I do no pray

for rescue, only for a break

in the monotony.

I wish I could see

The light of the fairy’s wand

And believe again for a moment

That anything is possible.