Fish Whisperer by Tawni Vee Waters

When I was a girl
I stood motionless
in still pools
cupped my hands
called fish to me.
I was never the child who wanted
thrashing things on my hook.
I simply wanted to touch them,
hold them, for a second or two.
They knew.

They came, and
I kept them
just long enough
to stroke their slick, silver scales.
After, I let them swim away
loving the currents they left
the trails of shimmer
dancing behind them
in red September sun.

You are like that,
the silverest fish I never knew.
I wanted to hold you longer,
but you slid from my hands
and swam, leaving splendid
tsunamis in your wake.

I wonder if I will drown.

About Tawni Vee Waters

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