"WE FEED the FISH"by Marjorie Simonshe, taller, with a courage if I ever had, buried long ago swims as if the fish she follows and not I spawned her. We share bread scraps, point at sergeant-majors who circle, tails flipping as they nip at swollen crumbs. Below us blue and orange angel fish. We speak with eyes enlarged by tempered glass, grunt, mouths puffed over snorkels. Once I marveled at her tiny fingers pressing one of mine, small babe to feed watch grow let go. How quick the years from one until the other.
|