She Stands Staring into the Water

[Lizzie]

She stands staring into the water
at every dock, pier, or bridge, (anywhere
she travels on land) grasping any chance
to contemplate the water—feel its lilt,
the comforts of its motions—
to glimpse underneath its surface tension
at the tranquility of fish,
opening and closing their mouths
as if to whisper insider secrets
on the benefits of fins and tails,
on the importance of luxurious armor
—iridescent scales—on the necessity of keeping
like-minded company and attachments
with your species, on the deliciousness
of dead things and how to not fear
them, and on how to meditate through the motion
of gills—back and forth. She stands staring into the water,
breathing the way the Buddha taught her—in and out—
longing for the life she left behind
the day she crawled out of the water.