Who said they were “tame”?
They are simply unaccustomed
To the dark side of man.

Sleek bodies porpoise through time
Inviting play
My body adjusts: metamorphosis
Fins, then gills.

The underwater joins
A seal pup’s eyes with mine
He careens around me
Swirling above, below
Weaving cages of stars.

All his fellows arrive
Black bodies lacing streams of bubbles
Light, air, water, darkness
An old, old language.

It is not that they are tame
But that we become wild.

--Sean Williams