You, are not just something I write
about – for, of, around or under.
You, are something that flies
so close to my wing then dives
down for a fish.
Does not tell me of the school.
A wise therapist once told me my blue
eyeliner made me look pretty.
She was looking for a way to reach me.
I said thank you.
Then, I told her what I did.
I’m wearing it again.
Where are the fish, friend?
I’m so hungry.
For grouper, sardines.
Fish you hid.
Will you think I look pretty sitting there,
if I survive and come up for air?
I want to tell you what I did.
What I Did
