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Listen, the Fish as They Move
for Kevin Coates

Listen, the fish as they move
from rock to weeds, and from
weeds back to rock--passing
through drifts of coldness--
they do not wince and recoil
when the crow descends upon circles
they start as they break

the surface and yawn at the sun.
Listen, listen beyond the call
of flying fox that has clung
to your mind since nightfall and prayer:
back to the music of ocean
and the honeyeaters in the brushes.
Cries, singular and many,

surround these fish--but they only
stare, dumb and spawning, return
through the dark current of rivers
to shallow clear beginnings.
Ignorant of the flooded gorges in our minds
they return--ignorant of blasphemy,
as each one yawns to swallow the sun.

-Peter Skrzynecki, 1970