The Meaning of Creation

Consider how the sound a fish makes, dark

The sound, in dark since fishes are unknown

In essence, most especially the shark,

Unknown to us not least because no groan

Escapes from slaughter underneath dark waves.

The coldness of the cutting, slashing teeth

Sends other creatures to their dark depth graves.

Unfathomed horrors hide down there beneath

The never-sleeping, hunting gullet of

That death machine.  The shark is more than shade

Upon the cosmos, more than shadow.  Love

Has never been its part but hate its blade.

  Gradations of sharks’ shadows are the point.

    Throughout the universe comes fang in joint.

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