Resplendence, Shimmering There Somewhere, Among the Dolphins

after Carl Phillips

Eloquence first, we were warned—upon reaching the lagoon,

will be followed by a strategy of fraudulent marketing, and if

that weren’t enough—eloquence’s imitation, request, to seal the deal.

It’s a difficult job, the fisherboys diving in all day

said, and as we understood, having been taught nothing, by our

own histories, that to be prescient is difficult. Look, how a seagull

perches its next eel—pecking the water’s shoulders, like a god. Hunger

baiting intuition into labour, also in prescience—that which shells,

more probably, beyond probability, will contain gems inside them,

amongst the odds of the million-rest from the seabed. It’s a difficult job,

as the boys kept repeating after every nosedive, we

relented to buy two stones, a ruby and a pearl; one for one

of your fingers; the other to slide over from your nape—

unto the neck, loose, faux, like blubber trussing the mammal

bellies—the fat only greasy, only alive, as long as the body is.