Ceviche
A piece of meat tells the story
of inlets and archipelagos,
where a couple of fins
have propelled shiny scaled skin
from the secrets of the depths
into your mouth.
Nothing else brings within a bite
a hint of its reef or marsh,
a scare from the tide or its predator,
like a whale whose songs
map the journey that ends
in your pleasure,
or disease,
after a rare reticent adventure
too long and too dirty to be told.