Hatchling

at first we thought it was a brooch glinting wetly        cowled in reeds

a grandmother’s lost pin         a dragonfly         no

look closer         a cut stone         or a dragon hatchling

thin as a heron’s leg         part eel part newt part prawn

his legs furled under like that boy that fell in the park         as if

from a great height         we dug him up out of a marshy bank

the lake was a blown pupil         here is a fish that is also a jewel

his neon glowstick blood        lapidary body small as a breath

nestled where the lake bared yellow reeds like teeth

feet not yet talons         fins not yet wings

now the cold-mouthed kiss         of icy rain at the back of our necks

and the girls that found him         waded out         finding

depth and balance        blood singing         electric         hallowed

only their pale bodies         swimming against the tide

cold         phosphorescent         alive in the dark.