imagine –
as I once did –
the vast secret
and silent spaces
of the sea
bored victim
of dull days
at a seaside let
I prowl around
a local aquarium
two sharks
eye me
distastefully
a ray tries
to bury itself
in too little sand
a sea-horse
embracing
a solitary weed
undoes me and
I bolt
but
not before reading
the writing on the wall:
THE OCEAN IS NOISY
it says
FISH GRUNT, CLICK,
WHISTLE AND SQUEAK
