Scales

Bend, bend, push

off the ground. My feet

disengage from the Earth, into the air, and then 

I’m 

d

  o

w

  n,

plunging toward the blue. My toes break

the surface first and soon

I’m completely enveloped in water.

I am a fish,

a rainbow fish,

with scales and fins. That’s all

anyone can see through those heavy

snorkeling masks.Why

must I hide 

beneath the waves to feel free?

Why can I not be myself in the sunlight?

What is there to be afraid of

up there? Here there are sharks;

there are poisonous jellyfish and stingrays.

Up there they speak in poisonous tongues.

I’m told to choose. Why

should I? Why be one

color when I can be them all?

I swim

d

  o

w

  n

to the depths where no 

sunlight can reach me. Without light, no one

can see the color reflecting off my scales. 

My identity disintegrates 

in an instant. In this lifetime, 

I will not be given a say. 

I can’t swim forever, but a fish

cannot breathe on land.

I sink.

I sink,

all the way to the ocean floor. 

It is then that I realize I do not have gills.

I cannot breathe.

I am not

a fish.