CONVERSATIONS WITH AN IRON FISH

CONVERSATIONS WITH AN IRON FISH


Thawed beginnings surround you as
the rise of new light pushes back the shadows of
the foothills while adding to your square bowl, new breaths. 
I know you hear them?
I know you listen in the dew evaporating as
they settle for a moment in chairs eyeing reflections
in your water not yet completely awake
they talk to you softly in stares waning
not far from the edge of sleep's itch.

I know you are listening - are you listening fish?

What do you hear? 
Fish, do you smell the tempura on your iron scales or 
see the many tongues as their long strokes sculpt frozen yogurt into points? 
Do you see perfection wrapped in summer dresses?
Are you fed by the essence of flowered lotions on skin,
mystified by oversized shoulder bags and hats, aroused by
anklets and manicured toes? 
What do you hear as students increase around you;
backpacks and books spread across stone and tables; studying together,
sipping iced or heated grounds – planning for lives powered and full?

Kazama’s glass door pushes into your bowl and reflections of Keiko Matsui
ripple across your fish water’s surface – remind me of their taste?   

Tell me?
Though lovers rendezvous around you, do nights arrest
once the beam of the security guard’s light quiets?  For me
that which I failed to do or should have done, should have realized,
ignored or did, return to settle up.

But Fish, even then I am absent – frozen by the silence of crawling things
around me...