MIDPOINT

There comes a moment in
the crossing when you 
can see the horizon, sun
glittering on the water,
a glassy fire, you look astern 
to the rainbow miasma 
all sparkling and ghostly, 
the land fades away 
and you are surrounded 
by stillness. A gold-bellied fish
splashes in the slickness. 
You don't expect it, keep 
hoping for its return. 

Even here there is terror 
and delight.

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