Lost Fish–A Portrait

The air parts when she moves

Heavy and awkward in her bones,

Graceful, too, like a fish or seal,

Beautiful in her element.

Her eyes hold loss and release it,

As a thirsty child might cup

Her hands at a stranger’s water-pump,

Drinking, letting flow, letting fall,

Evaporating, noting what is being lost.

There is humour there, too

And clarity, and wit.

Eyes that see, and know.

Eyes that break down

The composition of all the loss

That flows, evaporates.

Eyes that are not deceived.

There is love of beauty,

Of music, of art,

But the head interferes,

Muscling in, shoving

All of that to one side,

Coolly calculating loss.

Deep within, loss

Spreads like a pool

At the bottom of a waterfall

On the side of a remote mountain

And holds a single fish

Flashing its fin in the sun

Gulping air, her fish.

And below it, glinting,

A knife.

(10 April 2017)