I sat by my window today
And saw the faintest traces
Of a rainbow mixing back into the sky
I was reminded of the time we went fishing this summer
When I reeled in that rainbow-scaled fish
Its iridescence reflected in my eyes
And back upon itself to create
Colors I had never seen before, colors
That we could only see when interlocked, its body
In mine
And you asked me,
“Is it really fair to let free such a fish
when both of you produce such vibrancy
With your hands cupped around it,
Is it really that beautiful to let it swim back
into an ocean that pulls at its sea-hating heart?”
I respond,
“Can’t I hold it as it feels its dying breath
Ashore in my killing hands
Because dying isn’t so bad when it’s tumultuous and tectonic,
Right?”
As my hold tightens, though, the fish writhes and gasps,
So I feel us both recognizing
the transience
Of our clandestine connection.
You begin to squeeze my hand just as tight
So that when its eyes begin to pop out
Of its thin, sea-longing head, I throw that fish back home
As it flies through the summer sky, it shines more luminous than ever
And when it surfaces back into the water
I can see it still swimming about.
Longing to reel it back in again to my killing hands
But you say the kindest thing I can do is to let it go
So I do.
Its shine reflects from the water and across the surface
Breaking through the liquid cage, refracting into the ceiling of the clouds,
And I see that kaleidoscope of colors we once knew
“Perhaps,” you tell me, “You’ll forget what colors you saw and
How to see them,
But in the sky they’ll dance forever.
Wipe your crying eyes, and remember your catch.”
Hands still damp,
I close my shades, finding respite in the black.
