In the film loop at the entrance to the aquarium,
Jacques Cousteau tells of a dolphin in captivity
who, on the death of her companion, stubbornly
kept the corpse from sinking. I think about my body
and its flagging spirit, nudging it up for air.

Have you ever asked for glory? When Moses did,
God hid him in the cleft of a rock, covered him
with His hand and passed on by. When Moses came down
his face was shining fearfully such that he had to wear a veil.

There was one dolphin I grew attached to, came back often
to visit. His face, like he swallowed a canary. The perpetual smile
lost me in an ocean, another flesh, a tank. Stayed with me
in kindness I hadn’t felt or given in a while.

As I entered the Sunday door, the woman in the denim shirt
clasped my hand, said welcome. Her eyes were lit with the greatest
greeting, as if for the sun itself. I had to turn and run
away, unable to stay a minute more. In a flash-burn instant
I became bearable, but then the kindness itself
became too much to bear.