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My hand struggling inside this tiny fish
makes a place—you won't believe it!
I can hear my hand along my arm
gutting that still warm evening
—even now, as we talk, each heartbeat
cries upstream for its mother
leaps heart over heart, heard its name.
You're nervous. I can tell.
You always come to the shed like this
throwing its screendoor over the table
over the belly—I'm making room
for the world, for the tears that cover my body
—I can't breathe—quick! take my arm
this time deep enough for two
and waves leaving the sea forever.