You’re swimming like a dolphin, like a merman.
Fish white shoulders roil in the rainbow light.
You scud the wavelets, a small craft.
Your laughter froths the ocean until it laughs too,
and you are a god of the sea, at last: your true form.
Suddenly, you evaporate into the mist of Hy Brasil.
This is the last time I ken your spirit skin
in the shape of my dad. It was just like the algebra
your tried to speak with me, but this time the X
would not be found.