published in Poetry London,
Wild as Fish
were never one, never one round sphere,
ebullient sphere as described by Aristophanes
be sundered apart, exposed like John Dory
any other flat fish, to search for our other half
as strange to each other as the wolf and bear,
and unicorn, our desire occasionally as wild
the wild of horses: what then is the image
foreshadows love other than strangeness?
man at the airport who asks you, “I can see
your sister but are you hers?” or Peter,
after bird-watching all day, looks at his wife
if down the wrong end of a telescope. Days
we, like sea horses, link tails and drift apart,
that find us in the acts of dying or being born.