Aquarium
There is every evidence of an increasing interest in ATLANTIC poetry. As an incentive for writers yet unestablished. twice a year we set aside a number of pages in the ATLANTIC to he devoted to the work of young poets.
BY SHIRLEY KAUFMAN
Fish under water, weaving the clear
and equal cubes with silent movement,
fins and eyes, leave no paths
as they pass. They are contained
in paleness like an inner rind,
and lose their shadows in a rain
of light through scales, transparent tails.
and equal cubes with silent movement,
fins and eyes, leave no paths
as they pass. They are contained
in paleness like an inner rind,
and lose their shadows in a rain
of light through scales, transparent tails.
And we so late emerged fin
that stretched to water pulled like a wing
to sky), see how the crabs step sideways
on the points of their slippery joints;
how catfish float, testing with short picks
of whiskers the liquid space before;
how fastening in fear, the sea
anemones close petal tentacles.
that stretched to water pulled like a wing
to sky), see how the crabs step sideways
on the points of their slippery joints;
how catfish float, testing with short picks
of whiskers the liquid space before;
how fastening in fear, the sea
anemones close petal tentacles.
Like fugitive swimmers out of a dream
of tanks we come, compassless. Only
the small, round openings of our mouths
for signals. The shape of our softness public,
but secretly at home in warm waters.
of tanks we come, compassless. Only
the small, round openings of our mouths
for signals. The shape of our softness public,
but secretly at home in warm waters.
Giant turtles just below the surface
hang from their own reflections, heavy
with overlapping plates of shell.
Light flows. We feel our way. Slowly
begin to close the bony pieces
of our disconnected selves.
hang from their own reflections, heavy
with overlapping plates of shell.
Light flows. We feel our way. Slowly
begin to close the bony pieces
of our disconnected selves.