You can’t have the ocean without blue.
I walk at night, that’s the time of year
the grunion run, a silver school teaching us that it’s
work to populate –the small shimmer of a female screwing herself into
the sand. I wish her blue. She wooshes three thousand eggs
into the hole she’s made, her birthing room. The males circle her, and fertilize the eggs with a hug. The males leave and the female is quiet.
Then she flips and flops herself back and forth and forth and back,
side flopping to the ocean.
I wish her blue. I wish her free. I bless the eggs.
Continue reading “Blue Is My Favorite Color by Marie Cartier”
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