Jonah in the Belly

So this is how you’ll preserve 
me, Lord? in a slosh of brine? 
Go ahead, though I’ve borne no fruit, torn 
loose from my roots and gone my own way. 
I should be plunging through the vast black 
deep like a spoiled melon dropped overboard. 
But your bowels were moved; 
You rinsed and wombed me. 

How long till I sour in this reeling 
vat of guts? My cries rendered blubber-deaf 
against the rushing of great waters. 
A pulse in my brain, a breach of trust. 
Once I grasped the tongue of your thunder. 
This is no cellar, but the belly of hell. 

What have I fled? 

Take me back. I taste it now; I taste the salt 
even of Ninevah and her people, and tears for them
in gales, in flood. It is enough 
that you regard them. 
Save me, Lord. 
I’ve swallowed my pride and softened the bones 
of my skull until it’s as supple as a gourd 
sprung new in the night.