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Flying Fish (a poem)

Updated on July 11, 2013
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Flying Fish

Like flying fish

Under

Then

Up

a

Moment

Before under again,

We rear our

(Oh! I am significant!)

Heads up into air

and, for a trick

Of seconds

And glinting scales

And fin-wings that flick

The drops of ere

We were infecunds

Back to the whales,

We think, we think . . .

(Oh, I am sick

With novel fear!)

Oh! Is this . . . ?

But then we sink

(One fin-wing-flap-aged)

Back to the abyss,

None the worse

For wear,

And nescient

In reverse.


© Joseph Pedulla, Saturday, April 27, 2013

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