Gold Spotted Rabbitfish

You that lurked half-thug
among the pebbles, world-worn

but waggish—gave you Paly Frags
and you ate them. Flowers of the reef,

same. Put to your eyes the beauty
of camouflage, and you became it.

What was broken in you
broke waves until the others

were pulled through your hunger
into the imaginary

planets and pouches
of your stomach. All gold spotted

you were above your metallic
base of blue—on the other side

of social, in the orchard
of your private circulations,

like a thought I once had
but can’t remember

though I beckon with pellets
and messages of support.