The Stones, and: A Year in the Mouth of a Whale

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The Stones, and: A Year in the Mouth of a Whale Joseph O. Legaspi (bio) The Stones Winter thaw, March. From our rented red cottage we walked to the river, startled a family of raccoons. Mother hissed before disappearing. Where were the fawns? Hawks circling over our new lovers' heads? Pretty boy, you were murky transparence. Water flowed over sediment. Polished pebbles at your feet. You said, We cannot outlast the stones. Glittering in beautiful erosion. I stood, a wishbone over boulders. Vesper descended, we retreated inward driven by darkness. [End Page 66] A Year in the Mouth of a Whale I am not Jonah.He was swallowedby a big fish for sailingagainst God's directive.You don't mess with God.You go to Nineveh, as told,to preach against gentrification. I, however, prayed forthis sublet, rent cheaperthan New York City. My merman realtor rocks. I luxuriate as an otteron the baleen lawn. High ceiling, domescrubbed by plankton.Walls seaweed green,blubber-insulated,energy efficient. So what if it's dark mosthours—lonely, damp andslimy—the water pressure'sdope in the blowhole. [End Page 67] Joseph O. Legaspi Joseph O. Legaspi is the author of Threshold (forthcoming Fall 2017) and Imago, both from CavanKerry Press; and two chapbooks, Aviary, Bestiary (Organic Weapon Arts) and Subways (Thrush Press). Recent works appeared in POETRY, New England Review, Orion, and Tuesday; An Art Project. He co-founded Kundiman (www.kundiman.org). Copyright © 2017 University of Wisconsin Board of Regents