Blind Fish

Caught here in your limestone cave,
lost in a limbo of slow water torture,
for you, each day is night always,
Condemned to circle contours of a god’s
point of view, pale swimmers
in this light you are a deck of cards
shuffled by a pro, I back away,
& you come forth like falling
leave. False prophecy of this
hour, when I come closer, you ease
away. How do you see so deeply
in darkness? I wonder if you know
the shape of gone, of never been born.

—Yusef Komunyakaa

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