red-lunged whales whisper in the salt beneath our sleep

give us

the chamber of the heart called dream

it is no longer anyone’s dream

to live here says the woman at the honey stand

her tongue threaded sweet with bees

we too walked

until we could not stop & then we walked here

gathered apples from the muddy leaves

used our last nickels for milk

we sat with her under the cows shimmering

& dying in the summer heat

would you rather be out of luck or out of time

halfway there or halfway through | we who are psalmic

who did once hold welcome

like music in our bones