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One Intimate Morning.

    The first goldfish breeds lights.
              The second watches the tuft of lights
                     as a thoughtful gift.
        The third goldfish mindful of the water--
carries itself as a sanctuary.
        I brush the first ray on the water,
    and a quick morning scurries at my fingertips.
  My fish a little more tenuous than snow.
                 Rising to their cheeks, the seaweed coils,
      reticent in a tussock. Hours curling eons--
I can't stop admiring the tapering greens.
                 Reflections as slow seconds,
      shallow sleep leaks in white glints,
                   millions of suns at the centre
           of now,
 the present brushes off their gazes,
              and the fish look at me as if I were their dream,
      mouthing for intimacy--
          a flicker of my small, new heart.
                        I scatter more pellets,
I can't give more than a little inaudible rain.
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Author:Ling, Belle
Publication:Atlanta Review
Article Type:Poem
Date:Sep 22, 2019
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