Stingray

I hold the stingray, feel

the quick slick breathing of its belly.

Feather tongue.

Velvet back. Rich and deep.

Grey and calm.

Mouth opening, closing.

A water puppy seeking behind ear scratches.

A snack.

A wave rolls over my head. My feet are off

the sea floor.

    For a moment, I lose track of the flat friend I held in my open hands.

Suddenly, I’m

    afraid. Of the barb. The pain.

For only a moment, I forget the cold smooth. The thick soft.

   The salt sea flight.

I reach for begging mouth. My arms clasp the trust while my mind reels from danger.

The spike looms. Hidden below the sand.

I allow. The water. To lift. To place.

Me.

Faith.

A new spot. A soft place. A known unknown.

Home.

I open my arms and hope

for a stingray.