Six Weeks

You are not human.
I’ve seen the pictures.
You are a flippy fish
nestled tight.

You are smaller than my fingernails,
my teeth.
You make me queasy.

Your improbable heartbeat
stutters into action
like a fable that the earth is round.

Underwater creature
with new eyes open to the dark,
you cannot be relied upon.

You are nameless, secret, alive.

7 December 2009