Member Poem

It moves jerkily in my midnight dream.
A thousand Sundays ago, it used to

raise my hope for a pearl-spot fish, pulling
my nylon line. That climbing perch creates

new ripples in my mind. More than a fry,
its vigor fascinates me. This zigzagging

agility can keep any love alive. It travels on
its pectoral fin, detecting water vibrations in

the distant canal. This sixth sense is yet an
inspiring mystery. Living alike in fresh and

brackish waters, it never succumbs to situations.
This dark blotchy iron fish meets any survival

challenge, existing in low oxygen or scorching
temperature. Unlike other fishes, it digs and

buries itself in the mud to defeat the torrid time.
Today I too have to be the climbing perch.

First published in The Literary Hatchet.