Watercolor Humpback

By Marie-Louise Eyres

That brief time I shrank
to the size of a carp,
it was instructive.

The tank was clear,
I had full view of the house
and all its gaudy clutter.

Maybe it was Christmas
not just bad, human taste,
those colorful baubles?

No one heard me arrive,
my landing with the lightest of splashes
among the tiny bluefish

who swam, cold-blooded
around their plastic rocks
admiring themselves in the reflective glass

and just before I disappeared
back into the ocean,
back to the size of a bus –

some child mistook the fish tank
for a paint pot, raining globes of cobalt
into the water

imperfect moons,
exploding stars,
crystal balls reflecting the night sky.

Marie-Louise Eyres is a graduate student in the MFA program at the Manchester Writing School. She lives in Maryland but is originally from the UK. She has recently made it onto lists for the Brotherton, Bridport, Mslexia & Forward poetry prizes. Recent work appears in Ink, Sweat & Tears, The Write Launch, Algebra of Owls, Cathexis Northwest and a words & music collaboration with @TheSoundBoutique for #hashtagpoems