I miss their quiet wisdom and patience, the way they trusted me to feed them, clean their tank, sing to them while I folded clothes. (They lived in the laundry room. They had a nice view to the north and on the wall a pin-up of two wild and burly fish.)
I bought them to replace a hole.
Some holes can't be filled.
They got too big for the tank, for my heart.
Close
to the Surface
Their
roots began long before they were imagined by me
yet
somehow they were always to be mine.
They
came between my very shores,
rivers of blood and mucus, sugar and salt.
They
slithered, later walked upon shiny
waters,
opened
the way to miracles,
and
later faith,
if
this is what love defines.
Each
of them left with
a piece of a tooth,
for trade they offered me thin silver streaks,
some call stretch marks,
shimmery
like minnows
close
to the surface of the pond
that helped to raise them.
So
many things
all
touching one another.
Snowball
fights, macaroni art, small metal cars.
.
The
tooth fairy, hats worn backwards, campfires,
spilled
milk
.
all
this and more.
Nothing will compare with how my heart has
swelled to this
enormous size.
