THE CATCHER IN THE WAVES
Had she known he would be the one to catch her,
to cut her down,
to open her with his silky blade.
Had she known he’d be the one to undo her,
his long finger pressing, unlocking,
his long hook of fire stuck forever in her middle.
Had she known it would be him,
she would have stayed elegantly zipped,
furiously cocooned, solidly cordoned,
perfectly sealed the way he found her when
he first pulled her from the water,
scooping her up with his slotted spoon,
a tight pea of promise, a slight slip of girl not yet awake,
not yet aware that her father had finally come for her.