This is me calling. I see I thought you were gone,
that the past is not also here, that you are not eternal.
(You are, as long as people have imagination.)
You have never been cute, not even when you were born with teeth and cutting fin.
Your streamline is with purpose; you cut through much description.
When I was fighting you, I was afraid. How does one take care of one’s shark?
Swim anyway, but do not expect the water to be safe,
do not bleed senselessly, senseless, needlessly.
Be a shark as well. Sharks do not fear and are capable of ecstasy.
Honour your sensitive receptors – electrical stimulation of the finest gauge, sense blood at a distance.
A caress is overwhelming, causing a swoon and a sinking further into the depth.
I heard you were about justice, about deserved vengeance – seeking – rightly seeking vengeance.
That is quite a nature! Rather Godly, sayeth The Lord.
But how else may we perceive the teeth of God’s justice except as decisive, incisive.
I’m not sure where to keep you.
Recently the mermaid was occupying the swimming pool, but maybe you get along; I haven’t visited that chapter.
I keep my shark in the ocean and remember:
The rivers that meet salt water can accommodate such a predator – predating, and pre-dating other forms of hunter by a long shot.
Salt rivers are blood in the body coursing; current events happen here.
I welcome you o-fish-all-y to my wakening and expect that you expect my tremors.
So, I shan’t apologize for my fear and thrill.
Let me know when it’s time.