A Gift
Amanda J. Bradley
You gave me a fishbowl.
You watched as I oohed,
as I pressed my face nearly flush
with the transparent surface.
One inch
between my cornea and the glass,
as if I could see more clearly
so close,
a unique perspective expanded.
From there, I could watch
water undulating,
the curve of the line,
the surface and the depth,
the textured patterns of the gills,
the fish awfully breathing
under water,
smoothly swimming into parts of the bowl
where space distorted
as I watched the fish become
enormous
in just seconds.
