of all the things to swallow
the compass reels apace
because i swallowed the northstar.
it rests like the mariner's shame
dormant, and glowing in my belly.
don't i repent having gulped it?
forsaking, as always, the very atoms that compose my frail structure.
it hangs on the wind
like a sound or a smell
sure i must cut in.
extract and liberate my guide.
out of fear, biding my time.
knowing damn well that the answer is inside me.
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