February 18, 2025Sea Devil
It was not curiosity so much as
a calling that brought the fish
paddling up through the gradient
of ocean, the hideous yaw
of her mouth opened as if
in astonishment, exposing
the rows & rows of teeth
pointed like beliefs she hadn’t
yet questioned. Her eyes were
like sequins pinned in place.
Her skin, tarnished grey with soot
from the ovens of something
hellish, which she must have known
to be cold & black & infinite.
I can’t imagine how she lived
with that dim green light
always burning, always
unreachable, no matter
how hard she swam for it.
Her ridged, disheveled body
like something that had slipped
its shackles & sprinted,
as an earthworm does to rain.
How it must have felt
to see the depths recede
& that bluish green dreamworld
emerge. The sifting light,
the silt & bubbles exploding
like miniature galaxies.
Those who saw her say
her ash-colored body glistened.
Her thin fins looked like wings.
Watching her spin was like watching
a fallen angel ascending to heaven.
Does that mean she was happy?
& when the devil nears his end,
will he also rise like a fish?
Will the light call him like a bell
behind a doorway, or will it wait
there in silence for someone–
or something—to open it?
from Poets Respond