blue fish

 

Blue fish, just barely touched,

and the sea star spreading her limbs

in all four directions,

North, south, east, and west

and a fifth balancing the center,

holding on,

barely

bare.

Blue fish flies, sleek and sparkly

to the deep, to the deep

running away from your hand.

Limbs tear apart and float all around you

in two directions

Northeast, Northwest,

the fifth one holding for dear life,

barely.

Holding.

Blue fish swims away, away from your hand

star limbs are trembling,

floating in electric currents

Southnorthwestandeast,

no direction

no course.

A fifth one trying to grab to the real.

The real is wet.

The real slips away.

The real is gone.

Oceans of emptiness await you

after

the star explodes,

after

the blue fish

swims away,

not to disturb the ladies

sitting at the round table,

dry-complaining,

never to see a drop

of true sea water.