The Voyage of the Rays

Skirts fluttering,
they melt through the water,
rippling the sleep of the boat.

Each gasps a satisfaction
at the haul from sea into fire,
the flash of hands,

the scorch of the floor.
Each beats her tail feebly, rolls the sun
over the gloss of her spine,

her bleeding lip pressed
against a window of wood.
Her message is her body

winded at his feet,
eyes sinking in relief
at the journey completed.

He throws each back,
watches her turn, a medal in space,
but still they keep coming,

surfacing like dreams he has no answer to,
filling all the ocean
with trembling politeness.

Copyright © 2006 Polly Clark All rights reserved
from Take Me With You
Bloodaxe Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission