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                                    Paul Fisher

The whale welcomed me,
tongue meadow-rough, glossy
grin encompassing oceans,
black hole swallowing
promises, memory, gods.
O monstrous belly,
what alchemy occurred
before you spit my half-
digested self,
bone, blood, phlegm and shit
transformed, somewhere
among the galaxies,
without rudder, sail or oar,
between septillion stars, one life-
line spun from prayer?

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