Hickey

We're given bait and shown how to hold it
near the sensitive stingray nose,
a quick briefing—gestural
simulation, really—but weeks
of lecture couldn't prepare us
for the flat host we roll
backward to be loose among.
Pure wing, they follow our hands
so closely into arcs and loops
of scent that we can feel
depth relinquished
in the softer of their skins.
How long does it take us
in water sunlight permeates
to forget needing ever to be told?
A stranger swimming
behind us now might think
us part angelic semaphore.
Each diver chooses
differently when to move
the baited hand down
the underneath from the nose
to the mouth of the fish.
It's a question of how
long you can bear taking
advantage of something
more beautiful than yourself,
even if meaning
to feed it in the end.
When we slow and let them
dilate over our open palms
they make a nothing
world in themselves
and draw the old one
in. It can leave
a mark through neoprene.