Poetry — April 17, 2011 22:33 — 1 Comment

Fish – Marian Kaplun Shapiro

It’s said that fish don’t know
about water. Of course, we
haven’t asked them since
we have no way to understand the answer
should there be one.

Perhaps it’s we that don’t know
about water. The way fish
don’t know about air.
The way we know about dying, but
not about death.

Bio:

Marian Kaplun Shapiro is the author of a professional book, Second Childhood (Norton, 1988), a poetry book, Players In The Dream, Dreamers In The Play (Plain View Press, 2007) and two chapbooks: Your Third Wish, (Finishing Line, 2007); and The End Of The World, Announced On Wednesday (Pudding House, 2007). As a Quaker and a psychologist, her poetry often addresses the embedded topics of peace and violence, often by addressing one within the context of the other. A resident of Lexington, she was named Senior Poet Laureate of Massachusetts in 2006, in 2008, and in 2010.

One Comment

  1. Christine says:
    April 21, 2011 at 7:32 am

    Nice.

    Reply

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What am I?

Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies

Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Consequence;

Scientists can't find me.

Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
Was my image then—

Remind me:

The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…

Tick, Tock: Divine me.

-- Richard Kenney

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