how large am i, really?     i need to know  though i’m not sure why. i dream i am large 

enough to swallow the ocean        whole    as it rushes into me. i dream i am a cavern  

instead of a body. tide pull and glut. never full. salt-bellied and sun-sick.    i fill and  

ache, feel the heat around me pulse and choke and         find myself swallowed. i dream  

there is something above. in bright waters, a great gasp of silver. just as there is something below. deep,    deep below. i dream if i swim far enough, i can see it.  

an outline of something holy.        a fissure. a soft glow. the skin inside a belly. a world

outside, shining. i have no eyes and        light is nothing but a caress i cannot feel. is this what the earth feels?    the weight, the waiting palms.    sinking is the natural order  

of things.     gravity kisses me like a lover.     i dream of a god that holds creation in its

great, starless womb.        i dream that the world around me is living. that i  

am living. a rush of desire and kindling.     overflowing. i dream i am bigger than god. i burrow into the pressure-bitten depths: deep,         deep. one day i will learn that really  

all of this is my body too.         and how bright it becomes.