In the Sweat Lodge
I must confess the Whale,
my totem which appeared on my quest.
Not what I expected.
I did not expect anything.
I thought in humor –
perhaps serpent, mouse, fox.
Only one fourth of my beating Heart listened,
yet there he appeared.
I know not this mammoth mammal,
this elusive, secretive soul.
It must be dark down where Mountain is born;
days and nights stumbling up together for air.
I do not eat of shellfish.
I do not enjoy the salts nor smells of Sea,
yet I am drawn to Whale like my twin.
I wonder if he knows my thoughts too,
if he looks to the sky and thinks
the full moon wounds me with desire.
karla k. morton
karla k. morton is a National Heritage Wrangler Award winner, a Spur Award, and a Foreword Indies National Book Award winner. She’s a member of the Texas Institute of Letters, and on the historic 1914 Shuler Theater Restoration Committee. She’s the 2010 Texas Poet Laureate and Nominee for the National Cowgirl Hall of Fame.