when i look at you. the way water.

i feel nothing. flows and splits and flows

and quits. i don't know if.

the fishnet of my gaze gathers all day—

my bait is the fear of not reciprocating

the abundance of the sea around me—

and at night i sing to my boat

there's not enough room in you

for fishes to swim and not die and stink.

the stink seduces carrion birds and beasts

who fatten themselves on death and stench

and then die and stink themselves.

i feel nothing flow. the way water

looks at you. i don't know if my words

are fishes or nets. i don't know if

from but, and despite from because.

~ ajay

8/3/2022