hiding 

if i were jonah hiding from god 
i would have stayed in
the belly of the whale.
or even better
maybe i would have
sunk to to the bottom of the ocean
& become a starfish--moving my limbs
carefully across the ocean floor. 
i understand the impulse 
to want to hide from
everything. to want to 
fold the world flat & stuff it
into your back pocket or 
wad it up & chew until
there's nothing but pulp.
i should print less things out
on paper & save the trees
who have always been on my side
hushing in the wind & encouraging me
to become taller & rooted &
less human. i need bark & leaves. 
i'm fascinated 
by destruction. how i could tear a hole
in the carpet right now so easily.
i could crawl under there then 
& that could be where i hide
from god. but he has to get tired
of all that 
surveillance. there might be
heavenly cameras by now
or maybe that's just the job
of angles. all i'm saying is 
i don't want to be watched.
i'm going to make several mistakes 
in a row & disliking myself 
comes in waves. like jonah 
i climb into boats & push them 
off the dock. like jonah 
god asked me to do one thing
& i ran away & now i can't remember
what i was supposed to do.
i do want to be a good human & 
sometimes i worry all the good 
in me is dissolving--
flowing from the open pours 
in my skin. i don't want to be
a human swallowed by a whale
i want to be as small as krill
or plankton-- knotted in the baleen.
i want to be easily consumed 
by the creature. part of her diet.
to sleep between god's teeth.
to be wedged. i dream all day of 
these comfortable crevasses
i could seek. i could get up right now
& walk out of the whale's mouth 
but then he would see me in my 
pajamas & he would tell me to
take all my boldness & all my shimmer 
& become a gill. i want to breathe
without the threat of the sun.
i want to the deep deep ocean where
every fish is full of fangs.
there is jonah now knocking at my door.
he's going to ask me to 
listen to his story again. 
everything biblical is about retelling--
is about reminding the body of 
the origins of its feet or its fins.
i place on hand on the carpet &
wish that when i tore it open 
there would be a great ocean 
underneath with bruised waves
& jonah floating face-up--
staring at me & telling me 
there no where to go. i don't
believe him. i know i have been hidden
& i know where i can hide again.