Inside the Inside
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
Inside the inside
Of her breath,
Where songs live,
And praise,
There is a space—
Round as the cup
Of a nightingale’s nest,
Hidden by a thicket,
Wing covered,
Where she lives—
This little one—
Holding the uncorruptable songs,
The unmolestable poems—
Inside, like water roots
Of lilies,
She sits, tracing spirals
In the sand, watched over
By Euterpe and Thalia,
Terpsichore and Polyhymnia,
They cannot keep her
From being invaded,
From years of her life
Being stolen,
From her innocence
Being crushed by night
Predators and shadow-
Dappled afternoon monsters,
Though they try with all
Their might to stand
Bracing against the door.
What they can do
Is protect the breath
Inside her breath,
Where songs live,
And praise, where poems
Sleep, like nightingale’s eggs,
Where drawings manifest, like
Treasure maps,
Where dances unfurl, like
Galaxies, where music flows, like
Ribbons and rivers,
Where rhythm lives, like
The wing-beats of every
Rising phoenix. That
They can do. And will
Continue to do until she walks
With them to the seaside,
And points towards home.
