WEBVTT

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All Noahs.

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No more the child who's
screaming in his bed

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fails at the edge of dark to
bare his wound for binding

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since none may find the cut.

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Alone, protesting in his head,
he finds the perpetual dark

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though day and night go round.

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And sensing the storm
he sets his bony ark

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on a mountain for deliverance
against the wind's strut.

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No pairs of living
things bear on with him

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in the groaning whirlwind
and the gnashing deep.

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He lashes himself alone in his
single grim and voiceless agony

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and as the child, exhausted,
finally sleeps, so he may sleep.

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