Gwendolyn Soper

The Legend of John Dory

For Nives & Niksa. Split, Croatia 

It’s a sign of intelligence to try new food
and the salty Balkan air made me bolder
with every wave that brought us here
with the thrum of the old boat—I felt reckless
as a Puritan walking out on the sermon 
about The Fall and the imminent dangers 
resulting from desire.

The eyes are the best part, the waiter said 
after he set our plates down on the table 
beaten by hot island sun.
This is how you suck them out.
So, we picked up the fish and slurped— 
my tongue, that wet salty shore
where a fisherman once cast his net
into the sea for one last time
before dropping it to fish for men.

When he left his boat, Saint Peter saw a fish—
a remarkable flat fish with a coin in its mouth 
to pay temple taxes. When he picked it up
to retrieve the money, he left a thumbprint
on its side. These fish from the family of Zeus 
still carry the oval mark.

Still thinking of salt & water, apostles
& knotted nets, still feeling an inner fire, 
I look up and see the way you are looking
at me. Soon, I am swimming with desire.