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Poetry | June 2014

Hippocampus

By Dayna Patterson

The female seahorse
tendrils her tail around his,
brings him close in their morning dance.

Later, she’ll close the distance
between their bellies,
and pump his pouch full of eggs.

There they dwell, hatch, grow, until,
body bucking, he spurts the fry
into the surrounding sea.

Who decides who is female, male?
Mother, Father? When she left,
we were 3, 2, and 1, all in diapers. Fry

measure less than half an inch,
the length of a fingernail,
yet from dad they have enough

to drift, wrap their tails earnestly
around seagrass, sift for shrimp, and secure
mates, homes of their own.

I want to give you a gold trophy
of Hippocampus, a blue ribbon
embroidered with an orange seahorse.

The way our lives unfolded,
when we look close
at one of those pregnant males,

there should be a little badge with
your image
over the button of his heart.

3 replies on “Hippocampus”

Normasays:
June 10, 2014 at 8:51 pm

Your talent astounds me! The depth and breadth of it are amazing but the fact that you are talented is not a surprise. Knowing your story, I find this poem insightful and stunningly beautiful. You are my favorite poet.

Reply
Davidsays:
June 11, 2014 at 9:28 am

very moving

Reply
Sallysays:
June 13, 2014 at 10:48 pm

Wow! I love this poem. Very powerful metaphor and tribute to the single father.

Reply

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