In those days, my fists clinched a single oar   
I was never sure         never really sure          
how to survive the marsh       rafting on driftwood         
snakes              rattling in the distance       
though sometimes        I splashed across the swamp
and rattled            right back at them.

Our village by the sea,
our little music box--
when you wind us up,
our grey whales pirouette
in the passage, someone
rings the bell, the boy
bends down to pet his dog,
everyone is happy.