by Patrick Raneses

I never thought of a pond
as a piece of art
until my father tried
turning a flowerpot into one,
settling small koi in its basin.
The fish circled the lilies
like the seven angels
scored the sky
to inscribe the sun.
The lilies and a fish
turned-up belly drifted
and the sun skipped
light into my eye,
flares of green and pink
blotting my vision.

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