A fishmonger in the wet market

wakes the Sundays, sprinkling

a little palmful of water

across the agape, throbbing mouths
of stranded male fish

awaiting breath. Bristling

with lustful desperation

they gulp for gifts—

Filled with air, unsatiated.
In another dried-up country

a female fish swims in her marital tank.

The scent of her beloved arrives

through the mobile phones

as bait on a glimmering hook.
Droplets roll upon a banana leaf.

On it, a meal of sliced fish

served from her lingering palms.

After, these palms in which wetless kisses

begin in secret to gather and swim.
The meanders of unfulfilled thirst

take their course in the arc

of the thrilled body, springing streams

of sweat along scale edges.
Between the two countries

is an alluring fish tank.

Here, the unending ocean.