I have heard of fish
coming up for the sun
who stayed forever,
shoulder to shoulder,
avenues of fish that never got back,
all their proud spots and solitudes
****** out of them.

I think of flies
who come from their foul caves
out into the arena,
They are transparent first
Then they are blue with copper wings.
They glitter on the foreheads of men.
Neither bird nor acrobat
they will dry out like small black shoes.
I am an identical being.
Diseased by the cold and the smell of the house
I undress under the burning magnifying glass.
My sky flattens out like sea water.
O yellow eye,
let me be sick with your heat
let me be feverish and frowning.
Now I am your son, your sweet-meat,
your priest, your mouth, and your bird
and I will tell them all stories of you
until I am laid away forever,
a thin gray banner.