There’s a pool in the sea in the middle
of my ocean, punch line to a riddle
writ from turbulent emotion where I
contemplate with mer-folk the Great Big Why.
Playing fool, I might take up a fiddle
with the notion that my tara-diddle
wit will soothe like aloe lotion, or try
battering opinions like a deep fish fry.
From there, of course, I fly from the griddle
to the coals where every eager kid’ll
go until she questions: for this I die?
Nope! Joy is here, not in the by and by.
Better to bask in this infinity;
we’ve salt enough to sink no enemy.
© Elaine Stirling, 2018