You stare at us with your eternal mouth,
kissing and breathing on a bed of crushed
love and permutated ice. You are the Dead
God. Your clamped gills are space’s endlines. We
lift your tail, measure you on silver scales,
us blasphemers. All the while small insects with
shiny wings halo you, like fallen angels of evolution.
It is the fly that makes The Fish repulsive,
the humans who make The Sea dangerous;
not the wet eyes, the fat bones,
the womb smelling of sea.