A fish - the size of a sand grain-
battled the sea wave
alone.

 During high tide eves
he is above all the flags
when the currents ebb
below all the secrets.

                 No net-hole tinier than him
neither can the fishhooks bend like him
nor can the sword edges
match his speed.

 The eyes of the vulture
can’t grab him
nor can the salt fields
dry him
or the poles freeze him.

Off went the avatars and stars
over his head or tail.
Never did he let any story
capture him
any mirror beguile him
or any market humiliate him.

Through the sea’s insane blood
he sped
like a red-hot needle point
unaware of the  sea–faster than
him-catching up behind.