The mesh remembers
what it caught—
what slipped through
its thousand openings.
Each hole a question
the ocean refuses to answer—
how the net hangs,
like exhausted dancers
bodies curved
by the weight of water.
The sun finds every thread
every knot tied
by hands that know
what we hold—
what we cannot keep,
fold after fold
asking—
how shall I live
how shall I wait patient
holding what cannot
be held long enough.
