Underwatcher

I am the lookout below,

with my face-masking facemask
and MacMackerel mac
and my longstraggle hair
I forgot to tie back,

and I’m feeling the pressure
this deep in the green
from the weight of a world
that cannot now be seen.

But I’m here for a reason
and that is the glow
that’s filtering upwards
from way down below.

It comes from a party
like you’ve never seen,
a great gathering of fishes
deep down in the green.

They party together
and party all night,
and because it’s so dark here
they make their own light.

There are glowfish aplenty,
electric blue eels,
an iridescent octopus
kicking up her heels.

The dancing is intricate,

Underwatcher

huge murmuration,
whole-school assembly
with no hesitation.

And how, oh just how,
I would love to join in
with this frenzy of movement
by tail, body, fin,

but they’d spot me a mile off
and swim for the hills
when I bubble beside them
with rubberised gills,

and I don’t want to ruin
this fishy-fish fusion
by forcing upon them my
ichthyoidal delusion.

So thanks very much but
I’ll remain where I am,
just watching the action
as happy as a clam.

I may wish things different
but the fact is, it’s so –
I’m not a participant,
just the lookout below.