Mother is Waking

When the rabbitt spoke, to his mother’s joke
“The fields have grown so flacid
The sheath cut my cheeks, too often & too placid.”
And the mother said, to her porpoise dead
“The mountains have sunk to the ground
And I have decapitated you from your crown.”
Turtle sprang from relief, the shells to his feet
He sang, and he rose, and he sighed
“Nocturne wheel of black pitch, reside.”