The Fish

wadethrough black jade.Of the crow-blue mussel-shells, one keepsadjusting the ash-heaps;opening and shutting itself like

aninjured fan.The barnacles which encrust the sideof the wave, cannot hidethere for the submerged shafts of the

sun,split like spunglass, move themselves with spotlightswiftnessinto the crevicesin and out, illuminating

theturquoise seaof bodies. The water drlves a wedgeof iron through the iron edgeof the cliff; whereupon the stars,

pinkrice-grains, ink-bespattered jelly-fish, crabs like greenlilies, and submarinetoadstools, slide each on the other.

Allexternalmarks of abuse are present on thisdefiant edificeall the physical features of

ac-cident — lackof cornice, dynamite grooves, burns, andhatchet strokes, these things standout on it; the chasm-side is

dead.Repeatodevidence has proved that it can liveon what can not reviveits youth. The sea grovvs old in it.

The Fish. From Selected Poems (1935)