WATER THE FISH

shattering like an egg over pebbles, the split
between your flashing colours and your hiding makes me
plunder my trove of tools; (jewels I have known before I quit
my yolk and left these rapid waters), and now, there grabbing my old net with all its holes, I see
unmended reasons why I failed before and will again. I knit
in furious hope this moment will not pass, and pause: my plea,
my heart, my lust all curl like weights into a hopeless cutting grit
and the net goes hard against this wind; I cast for you. alas. the water swirls to free
last traces of the glittering spume where for an instant your face in white and yellow sworls was writ
and now the memory too is gone
back into some distant and misunderstood, and fathomless sea