Sarah Cooke: Wings of E

emerge by the light
of electric eels

eating quietly in
the liquid green
of an evening sun
above the algae

exquisite almost
the world seen through water
sacred, to be sure
but unclear

even in the dark
a rapid motion is felt
as the shifting of molecules
against hairs on the neck

enter – no
the constant exit
of a one-night show

enmeshed in netting
            soft but firm
            dare I but turn to see
            that I have wings
            the wings of E