The Whale in the Blue Washing Machine
	
	There are depths even in a household
	where a whale can live. . . .
	
	His warm bulk swims from room
	to room, floating by on the stairway,
	searching the drafts, the cold
	currents of water and liberation
	
	He comes to the surface hungry,
	sniffs at the table,
	and sinks, his wake rocking the chairs.
	
	His pulsebeat sounds at night
	when the washer spins and the dryer
	clanks on stray buttons. . . .
	
	Alone in the kitchen darkness,
	looking through steamy windows
	at the streets draining away in fog;
	
	watching and listening
	for the wail of an unchained buoy,
	the steep fall of his wave.
	                         -- John Haines