Jonah

When like Jonah
I’ve been carried
by a whale
what do I do
when the belly
drops out.
All the pieces
start to fit
and the pictures
don’t. The seams
of the black
turtleneck sweater
of my youth
split.
Threads that kept
shape,
unravel,
exposing my skin.
And Jesus
its birth all over
again
and I’m left for
the second time around,
left with my skin exposed,
left with the outrageous
vulnerability
of the young.