the lovely arc of a meteor in the night sky


At the party there were those sage souls

who swam along the bottom like those huge white

fish who live for hundreds of years but have no

fun. They are nearly blind and need the cold.

William was a stingray guarding his cave. Only

those prepared for mortal battle came close to

him. Closer to the surface the smaller fish

played, swimming in mixed patterns only a god

could decipher. They gossiped and fed and sparred

and consumed, and some no doubt even spawned.

It’s a life filled with agitation, thrills,

melodrama and twittery, but too soon it’s over.

And nothing’s revealed because it was never known.


James Tate