At the bottom of the aquarium,
I am arranged like a note.
At the bottom of the aquarium,
tucked by a pile of loot, I hang
while voices stop overhead,
then vanish. Constellations, floors
soaring with stars, mean nothing
to me, nothing the loaded trees
pinpointing a street. But this
knocking on walls? This
is my heart, this my fury
turned low inside, like sunlight
stuck afternoons in red drapes.
