The ocean is empty
again. Here and there
a small galaxy of scales
marks where a bluefin
swallowed a herring.
The victim’s scales
swirl in the turbulence
of the departed
tuna now bearing off at
high speed. Then each vortex
slows and stops. The sinking
scales gleam like diamonds
from a spilled necklace
then they dim. Finally
they wink out at depth.
From Quicksilver, Kenneth Brower, March 2014, National Geographic. Submitted by James Brush.
Verbatim Poetry 