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