a poem written in two voices
If you dive down deep under the sea
you'll hear our hunger as our beaks scrape
and grate like shovels against concrete.
Like a shovel against concrete
I excavate the reef and the coral
becomes both meal and sand.
At daybreak we glide in gangs
you can follow our plumed trail
excrement of coral and dust cloud.
Our feeding transforms the reef
into fine tropical sands so coveted by tourists.
At night we undergo our solitary existence,
secreting rooms of private refuge.
We sleep in inked cocoons of mucous dreams
protected from nocturnal danger of the hunter.
The stars shelter us, the sun guides us.
And if we live long enough
we may change from female to male
and back again—to keep the balance.
To mate we become male, we become aggressive
Our colors brighten like a macaw's.
We undergo a colorshift from placid green
to electric magenta and neon blue.
And when our passion is spent
we fade to turquoise and mauve.
I am both male, and female again.
The tide pulls my cloud of young eggs to the open sea.
My young fry ride on the tide's back to the far reef.
If we should meet again, my young and me,
they will find their mother has become their father.
Iolande and Maureen
Walker Creek, CA
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