THE FISH POSITION

THE FISH POSITION

 
I already know how to migrate inward, into my ethereal body,
two shut eyes drawn toward the third,
the crown of my skull opening like a sunflower at noon.
 
I already know how to arch my chest like an accordion,
head thrown back in the fish position,
the world turned upside down as in a camera.
 
I know that everything is interdependent.
Half awake, I'm this way
and half asleep, I'm that.
I know all of my selves,
how to do and watch at the same time,
to stroke my leg as though it were a dog.
 
I'm good at fundamentals.
I've learned to hollow out my soul and become still as a tree,
to exist entirely within the green foliage of attentiveness,
to inhale everything that's good
and completely exhale the bad.  
 
But when the hungry dogs in the fields
start wailing at the sonic boom,
I go limp at once,
awaken only to see
how deep my sleep is.
 
My heart in full eclipse,
I slant the font of this poem leftward,
like the handwriting of introverted people
who lay the letters down on the lines,
half a minute from Gaza as the crow flies.

THE FISH POSITION