The cuttlefish are invisible
As they rise up through the depths
But the luminous orbs they carry
Are not
But what is unexpected
Is that they are both eyeballs
And that the sisters insert them
Into a cuttle-golem of ink
And bring it to life
The luminosity creating
Thread-like tubules in the form
And the form’s signaling in response
‘I begin’
And its body looks like a map
Of the entire milky way
Stars and galaxies on display
And who can say
What meaning there is
To the event so far
Down, so deep, in these black seas
And the sisters
Part, Swim off
Cold hands over cold stones
Of cold black transparent fire
