in which you never see the thing
in which the thing is a shark
or a shadow of a shark
a shadow of its former self
ocean floors have a way of concealing
as if it’s all so much light and shadow
to say nothing of fins
to say nothing of
teeth
Using one of today’s prompts from Robert Brewer’s PAD Challenge. If it’s Tuesday p.m., check out Open Link Night at dVerse Poets.
Remora (Latin for Delay)
My shark mother
flies me through the reeds,
up and out to where
the water is deeper
under me, under her.
I have found
a good place
to attach.
I don’t worry much.
We have errands today.
She is hunting, will pass me
the pieces she doesn’t need.
It will be some kind of fish;
I don’t need to know
how to name it.
Everything used to be someone,
and anyway, names tell lies.
Marilyn Rauch Cavicchia 