Swim
Gretchen Johnsen
the fish girl comes
with eyes like sea-
grapes gives us each
a little mask
of gills she is the dream
of multiples
and we escape
Somewhere
a fish
is frozen in the cell
of immobility, one final leap
unfinished: this is hell, the memories
as thick as honey. We can see
it all, but it is finished. My
beloved, I can almost
Jesus dies
and we all swim away.