It was a flash of light
From a pink and silver scale.
Then it disappeared completely
In the blackness.
There it is again
The sweetest pink
Causing me to pause
And look again.
Two scales!
And where there are two there might be three
But back into the darkness again.
How frustrating.
The merest glimpse, then blackness.
Then three or four
They are articulated and moving together
They look alive.
The heliopause gives meaning to the solar system
And so the pause between scales gives meaning
It takes time to believe the flash is real
And longer to guess they may mean: fish.
In the lap of Black Mountain is a pond in the shape of a teardrop
But abandoned and black.
An eye put out.
I trickled cool, clean water into the eye
It blinked and opened
Into the most georgeous, clear pond.
I became responsible for saving its life.
It had everything:
Sunlight, green weeds, water spiders and Kingfishers,
And even a family of kangaroos.
It was the most beautiful eye
And lacked nothing but a pupil.
With all the exquite timing of an eye surgeon,
I introduced a goldfish, a golden pupil.
When I looked into the cool, clear pond,
The pond looked back and
Could see the merest flash of scale behind my eye,
Kindling instant desire.
But what a shy fish it is
That plays behind my eyes
And what a bold fish I have created in the lap of Black Mountain.
They are separate, they are separate
And long to be together, so much
They are in pain. They are in pain together.
In the most beautiful park, the Botanic Gardens.
Beauty and pain are married here today
In the lap of Black Mountain,
Witnessed by a Kingfisher, a kangaroo and a koala,
Midwives to a birth behind my eyes,
Which wide open, see the golden pond
And half shut, become the pond,
In love with a fish.
Ah, my love.
Torie.
|
Submission Name: The Fish in the Pond.
