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At twilight, the fishes are retreating
To the distant depth where
They are sure of disappearance.
There is no more jumping out of the surface;
Every little corner feels like a void.
They are full of daydreams.
They complain with broken bubbles.
They hear the ghosts ranting
Beneath the currents, no matter
How far away they try to keep.
They are certain about the warm
Sunlight that can reflect and
Refract from their bodies as they become
Lighter and lighter at dawn
Changming Yuan edits Poetry Pacific in Vancouver at poetrypacific.blogspot.ca