Against the ocean floor Like a smothered clock. From the world above the water, though, Where the sun moves And the moon, I have learned to sing the mermaid’s song. I listened for years From beneath the surface Until I had it right. And now I sit with my son on his blue bed As he turns the pages and recites: Cone fish, box jelly, angel fish, eel. When he grows up, he says, He’ll be an underwater explorer. Will he someday find me there, In my true form?
Santa Fe Literary Review
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