I am

[71degrees]

the unborn witness of birth and death.


The surface of my breath is separated into boxes: souls growing, slow,
And in my shadow-stuffed hollows, I swallow my souls alone.



Inside, they know,
I am the one who loves them so.

The ambiguity here is interesting. From a Christian standpoint, God has already been born so…..

Boxes are either for saving things, storing things, given as gifts. People are buried in boxes. I like "boxes." Takes me in many directions. Jonah was swallowed. He "knew" after he was swallowed, and according to the narrator…"Inside, THEY know,…"

There's really not enough here to make this a legitimate poem that stands by itself. I could see it as a "verse"…a new psalm, so to speak, in a new Book of Psalms. I like the presumptuous attitude and pompous nature of the narrator.

Do something else w/this. Please.