I have these underwater days, distressed as a little mermaid by memory’s insistent minnowing,

a gutted fish, left open to the saline sting and welcoming

its corrosion when, descending, subway chaos swims with this fear of falling

not far enough, and wanting underground to be what I have heard it sings

with: Eurydice moment on the narrow stair, she all gill and fin,

agasp at this new element until his turning round, her turn.