The Fish in the Shallows

The fish nestle in the calm of the current,
keep their complacency with a flick

of their tails. They must be all muscle
to come to standstill near the applause

of the sunlight, their olive backs
just visible in the water's clarity

beneath the bridge's shadow.
Love can be like this, the moment

of poise in the river's flourish, the weeds
bending to the water's insistant shove.

The way you can peer into the murk,
the way it settles over the rocks

like a magician's black cloth draped
over a woman's body. You imagine

love vanished into thin air, the glittering
air under the spotlights. The fish

nuzzle into the cold of the current,
their backs to the glow of the tepid shoals.

Copyright © 2005 Ross Leckie All rights reserved
from Saranac Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission