like Jonah into the belly
like Daniel into the fire
like the rage that drew her
into it, it drew the shape
of itself into her

and she was talking about
the fat
the fated
the fire

she was talking about
the sacrificial action
she could not s’wall-hollow
turning jove’s blue skin
and things over in

the belly region and the more it
drew her the more it withdrew
into her and the more it withdrew
into her the more she withdrew

into the thing itself
how this now feeds O
my fire, my own blue fire
already quenched and already
two going on from two

the thought of it
elevates a soul
within and within
this spirit in great depths

metis keeps here
her, my treasure
but from me toward
a great distance
I still must go

waging space against
my skin and I in O
now fill with no flesh
a felt-sense knowing

I, too, shall
step ashore like she
unclaimed and
filled with images
I have seen

©2007 Container stephanie pope White Stocking Tale Poetry Series