The Fish

I catch her ankle.
I catch a fish.
She kicks. She
snaps. I wish

I could swallow
her ankle. I wish
that ankle could be me.
I wish I could eat

That fish forever
as it dies in my hands.
The stream slivers
underneath, silver.

The ankle blooming
on it’s own.
I feel the dome
of the bone

like a mountain
on a toy globe.
She didn’t sculpt it
and there it is!

My favorite sculpture!
A part of her!
A letter in her
language.

I hold it
gentle and firm
like a fish,
like a prayer.

I reel her in.
I kiss
the fish.
I release her

into the stream.
She swims away.
I’m left here,
holding the sky.