Float tank
Rosie reckons it’s like the ‘90s again
and there is a loop to it
how ritual recycles time to create
illusions of timelessness
the whales sing you in
to spirals of self
a going round gossamer
it’s dark in here
fear is never far away
that’s the price of entry
not just to this stuck cocoon
not just to this stuck cocoon
and salty amniotic womb
don't panic; it’s only
from the inside that we can escape
the done deal of ourselves
only by going to the duller repetitions,
thuds of the heart, the in outs of the breath
…
the whales are returning now
it’s time to open the hatch
it’s time to open the hatch
of the egg.
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