STURGEONS
and
i get to swim with the sturgeons in-between
what
rhapsodies cold fish inspire
nudging
these numb dumb dangling limbs of sleep
they're
so old they remember having legs
phantom
limb pain is part of their holdings
a
dominion they can elect to dispense
how
hip are they anyway
do
their nervous systems superconduct
down
there in the cold and the solid state darkness
maybe
they are able to do both
read
and write to cellular memory
archiving
their ontology
with
proteins stringing years of meaning
informing
the germ
taking
their slow and delicate turns
with
bits emitting photons as they bond
maybe
they keep up with inner sight
and
their living light
is
not prone to blink like ours is
they
do seem to read everything
and
with no rosetta stone
suggesting
their knowing has never been lost
maybe
they don't get brain-wiped every ice age
dumbed
down by all that cutting and running
then
crowded off the edge like lemmings
only
catching on to their free falling essence
as
the end of the race hurdles up to meet them
once
all our hardware
and
all our monuments are subsumed
maybe
dazed dropouts from armagedon
stumble
and fumble the next sprint in the marathon
surviving
earth's little whim for adornment in ice
floating
beside me in my stugeon dreams
she
seems most like a mother worrying her wedding band
in
a sulk to make a few dreamers breed true again
turning
the zone of lives still possible
around
the equator
one
day at a time
while
the rest of each hemisphere
is
two miles deep in frozen tears
before
the last time
not
much on record of our kind
just
the inscrutable babble of lucky lemmings
who
in the narrowing race
once
squeezed through the neck of hourglass
were
merely mostly stunned by the fall
by
landing last on grim heaps of heartbreak
the
top of that pyramid
even
now routinely seen on bills
and
when the eye winks
the
thread of continuous glories drops a stitch
envy
the sturgeons their seamless fabric
in
their neural nets
dragging
both dark and luminous times
millennial
changes that have left us swamped
are
only eddies in their gossamer wakes
on
what inspiration
meeting
up with them in the trackless deep
does
stunned flotsam feeling bumps in the night
try
to join in the blessing before the bite
- Robert Erman
copyright 1999