The Fish

Wade through mud, who, as I do, has a title and ripens out the connections between stimuli, it is good to see it,

see it twist from a bow, it is multiplied 3-D and has a slippery IQ of intelligence in the sink of presenting itself.

In its state of being, this trembling— its only strength is what can be extruded, eaten by birds, or dried like sea palisade; pass on outfitting skies subsisting. Napping in the sun, it smooths the sun, this statue in the water is tied down as coral ghosts’ wail.

• Marianne Moore