By Hilary Sallick

Posted on

I visited some fish
in a manmade pond      each
a swimming body     a mouth
opening and closing    a tail
steering the muscle of self
through shallow waters

One small white fish leaped up
twice into air then vanished
back under
Two narrow yellow fish
hiding within a rocky shelter    darted out
for brief glimpses

The whole dark surface aswim
with purple blue orange
speckled contrasting bodies   rippled
at my feet    reflecting light    churned
by the fish

I didn’t dip my fingers in
to touch them
no matter how they clamored
eager    robotic
I watched them beat their paths
round and round…

Now at night I’m writing    not floating off
into trouble of self   sadness of ego
but gliding on the page

There’s something to lean on   not
outside    or yes outside   outside-
in    such as words are

and the truth they move toward    even if not

– Hilary Sallick