Margaret Szumowski
Translation By Water

I am translated, moon-bellied,
a creature of tides.

Floating this meadowed sea,
I finger the reeds.

Orange fins hatching, blizzards
of white butterflies.

The sea breathes. I float
faceless in water

sharp with teeth. A tide
could break me against the shore.

The razor-toothed,
the shovel-faced scooping

the slime. This is moon time.
The coursing of tides,
the innermost sea.