Falkor’s sidekick says
‘sorry’ like ‘yore’’ with an ‘s’
And ‘about’ like ‘a boat,’
as if she’s talking about
some other boat
than the one we’re
already on.
She’s only an observer,
yet she’s the voice of my
Trench,
she is the voice of the
ghost fish.
The ghost fish doesn’t
exist
on the internet, nor
Underwater World.
It has no tales, no trace—
still she believes in its being.
And Falkor shall prove the
ghost fish
worthy of a Wikipedia
page, worthy of art…
Falkor’s sidekick doesn’t
have
the ability to read the
depth of my Trench,
yet she feels its yearning
to be heard, to be loved.
The sidekick makes me want
to care
about the mystery of my
Trench
about the bloodcurdling
blue nothingness
which isn’t really nothing.
I am nothing compared to
my Trench.
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