Because the hook is too cruel, I
offer softer lures, chumming
the surface of the rivers
you love: the cathedral light,
the refuge of rocks,
the small ballet
of water striders walking
the sky of your shimmering world.
From which I might lift
you for an instant,
to remember the iridescence of
your delicate, dappled skin, your
rosy flanks, your silver belly,
the fin-fletched shaft
of your graceful body;
your elegant architecture.
And see again your crimson gills
pulsing in air they cannot
breathe, the gape
and struggle until
I loose you in
that free and fluid
realm I cannot inhabit.
Though you love me, too:
I see it in your wide
unblinking eyes.
You ponder an earthbound
life, the strangeness of feet,
the tender dexterity of
wondering hands, how
Iungs work, how
to breathe even
while kissing. How
we are caught,
and then
released.
Very beautiful Cate.
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Thank you, Sue. Perhaps more, some day.
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Stirs up a lot of puzzles for me … re how I look at “others” (beyond human, and actually even some of my human-kind assumptions). Glad you released. I ponder times I’ve felt caught, yanked from my realm … then somehow returned to familiar territory.
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Many mysteries in that experience, Jazz. Thanks for reading.
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Beautiful, Cate.
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Thank you, Russ.
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