The cameras save us from drowning or becoming
a meal as they borrow our eyes to conceive a world
whose strangeness we’ve come to need. Swayed rock
that nibbles and mates, claws and coils whirling
to hunger’s tune. Beauty is Andromeda’s work,

chained to taut patience whose only promise
is a dawning grumble. Blessed are the colorful
for they are poisonous. Blessed the dark
for they have learned to count. Blessed the callous
who have armored virtue. Blessed the crafty

for they learn alone. Blessed the camouflaged
for only they know themselves. Blessed
are the bioluminescent for they rhythm
emptiness. Blessed the innumerable besieged
for their fear feeds throngs. Blessed the brimming

pools which turn the ocean into a word.
Standing over them we lock reduction
into our view of the self. Contained, the held
bright myriad whose torments clear and urchins
jewel, rise unbroken and unshelled.