I am a staircase and—
I am the knight of the castle.
The king of the drowned castle.
The castle where they named me
after a god.
And I pace the halls: steps on currents and pressures
You’d imagine the clicking of boots, my sharkskin soles on the filmy tiles.
They say the rays were princes once.
(But they spare no legend for me.)
Imagine my lights-out manuscript,
Lovely scrollwork, on the warning signs.
So I “dance”
With the bits of light falling past the remnant windows,
Windows too small to leave through.
Watch dust motes on the old armoire.
They’re plankton, really—
And most of the time
I’m lying to you.
I’m the storybook revenant
And I loop
And I pace
And I cycle
And the water flushes
through my centennial gills
We ate our Titanic ballroom
guests.
The water went first
and the benthic got the rest.
In the whale hall there’s nothing
to guard anymore—
I wasn’t on patrol
Until I started looking for you.
I ought to be hungry but destruction suits me fine.
Your body or mine.
I watch you leave out the well and the window.
The drapes flutter when your current passes by.
Looping coordinates, F7 F6.
Some cartographer decided we were never to meet in earnest.
I’m mapped in red on the dive chart you keep snug in your pocket.
You’re unhappy to see me.
It’s not to say I miss you but I notice when you’re gone.
Sometimes I feel your eyes on me,
And want to stop to meet you.
But we both know that sharks never stop moving.
