The Round Pond
by Stephen L Davey
For the straggler from the rain
who sleep-walks in the hothouse,
red fish move under tepid water
focused through the open diaphragm
of some genetic tropical memory
struggling to know
if this colour and heat
is a woman in a long dress now departed,
or the pain that seems to follow
when rain exchanges for warm vapour
in a glasshouse.
And do these fish perform
when no one is watching through the
silk-covered lens, in real tropical glens,
where longing is superfluous.
(Published in ‘Page Seventeen’, 2006).