[71 words]
The old house
cracks its knuckles
all night long.
Sleeping inside
a living thing —
the belly of the whale.
One can lay still
and listen,
and hear its breath.
One can lay very
still so it may not notice
that we are here —
that we have been
swallowed during the day,
sucked through the baleens
of open doors.
If we are very still,
maybe we will be
spit out
at daybreak.
Dolo Diaz is a poet with roots in Spain, currently residing in California. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in ONE ART, Rogue Agent, Right Hand Pointing, Star*Line, Humana Obscura, and Book of Matches, among others. She also has a debut chapbook, Defiant Devotion, which was published by Bottlecap Press.
