The Fisherwoman
The fisherwoman
in her boat
under the sky,
deep blue above,
deep blue below,
hat
salty, skin
rippled,
waiting,
the fisherwoman
sings.
A soft song
o my love, o my lord,
carry me, float me, rock me, rescue me
a soft song for the fish and the sky
and the broad ocean and all the things on islands
that call to her.
Buildings, streets, people, suits
on green islands
across the ancient ocean,
the endless sleeping sea.
Through the light she sees the islands
and the fish watch
and wait.
—Janet Jackson
