Everyone crawls inside the clock-cave
just as you do each night,
girl-needling-through-the-storm,
and light drains from each tidal body.

Thoughts flash like fish
slipping from orange nets
in the sandshifting
phantasma of dream

and every ten minutes
the dolphin asleep in the sea
slaps her fluke like a lever
raising the nostrum

to drink an airy quart.
You, thirteen and contemplating
razorcuts, also sleep this way,
the devoted gears of your body

drawing you to the surface
of dawn.
Reject the gods if you wish.
This is faith.

Your blood rivering without roil,
lungs washing your torso
with the invisible-
you are swimming in it.

Just let your breath
buoy the ache tonight.
You will not be devoured.