penghu

an endless blue. my island shore.
my quiet voice. a crashing roar.
my little feet mark steps in sand.
a big red bucket in my hand.

cold water glides across my gills.
it tastes of dark and salt and kills.
i hunt for food hoping to make
what others all of me want made.

i cuff my pants and dip my toes
to cool myself from hot sand's glow.
my bucket drinks with thirsty lips
salt water, sand, and -- wait, what's this ?

in rest i lie where currents go:
to waters warm, bright, and shallow.
a sudden wake from surface stirs:
swimming around a big red blur.

i look at her. i look at him.
i puff in fear. i'm uncertain.
i dip my fingers holding shrimp.
i take a bite. we make friends quick.