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Fish in a pond

I have always called him the ghost and his companion the beast

didn’t name them just who they were

gray, liquidy silence,

effervescent silhouette in silvery movement

we are not intimate, not even aware

but I sight him sometimes and he must me.

Each sighting is a reassurance,

his size keeps growing but

nothing like the beast, proportional but still never

beastly.

Defacto provider since titular pond digger,

didn’t do much, rain fills it in,

aquatic seeds bungled right in,

floating roots, visible, fodder

I see him feed, furtive

not a relationship,

better, I feed off of him,

calm, it's a feeling he/she

feeds me. Parasitic, when my world

can't give, he fills in.