Poezja

Into the purple sea, feet first
along the whales back
stuck with barnacles and whorled worms
slips the man from the boat
who used to be a priest, then a rabbi,
buttoning his mackintosh.

ker-splash!

The whale glides off, laughing and spouting
the boat drifts off, the sun goes off.
the atolls drift and shift. The sky popsickles green.
'Isn't it lovely', sputters the man
(who has lost his stove pipe) emerging
back into air. 'Isn't it lovely'?