To Fellow Questions

Beauties, all, gnawing on a hip bone

the shape of sea foam

from where all questions arise, am I wise

enough to bridge all mother and father? Beautiful, gnawing

at the question. That ache, that pleasure,

another question. Blur joy into joy with the asking

of the question. Who am I? What is my pleasure? The ocean

is always asking but it never gets answered. What shall I eat?

What shall I hunger for? Where am I

in this wildness all over? All over again, wildness.

 

Let the right question in

to grow like a mind of green towards another question

and seek there the push and ache, the sweet pleasure

of greening and growing towards an unseen question

which curls on itself like a body

can curl in, turning over and pulling through

as a pretty as a bow as hard as a boot, either or

suits. What glamour is needed, what glamour is worth all

the wonder the work brings, the asking, asking

over and over again. What shall I eat? What shall I hunger

for? Where am I in this wildness

all over? All over again, wildness.


Also by Cassandra Whitaker

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