Aquarium

We began with water, as all things do, the Venus Bay waves
our cradle. Beneath our feet, fish backed and forthed in love.

Their schooling taught us laws in swift and perfect symmetry.
Shape-shifting endlessly, they imparted scenes of geometry

that buoyed our heavy hearts up. We had come from the city
leaden with oil-riddled smoke-littered blood. Synchronicity

was a thing we had not yet learned. Treading the lace water
we faced each other, each other’s weight an anchor forcing

our bodies to combine. That first dunking was barely a swim
yet we paddled regardless, aware somehow of a beginning

that would somehow require an end. Another season saw us
ploughing laps at the pool, rinsing later the detritus

of chlorine from our skins. We had many baths and got caught
in the rain: often we were wet. Then came the day you brought

the aquarium home. Evenings, we sat and stared at the glass
and its frequently suspended inhabitants. And as time passed

it began to seem as though our lives themselves swam inside.
Our tenth anniversary will see us aloft on the Venus Bay tide

again. We will drink to the sun and toast the dunes and thank
the moon that we too are fish, this world our isolation tank.

About the Poet
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