but time needs attention
all my life my tongue lay in the bottom of my mouth soft fish
then at the age of 40 I learn to hold it to the roof winter boat
my jaw relaxes
my head lifts
astounded at this small but intrinsic ability to return
my toes to a wider spread my shoulders to a softer drape
along the wings of my spine
becoming a bird I move through time
as a bird moves through water
making the most of a sojourn in the world of creatures other
From: Between each bullet; unpublished