but all in a past tense with a rewritten range.
We are just fresh-water fish―
no swim permitted,
trapped in this water tank.
Wings are hanging in dreams
where there are many countries
to traverse―with light.
We do have much to say, all
sealed in bubbles,
gorgeous colours, the higher they rise
the less they weigh, and the easier to burst.
What sinks to the bottom, dark as loaches,
hard as shells, are our lips and teeth―
closed and intact.
Yet never refer to us as thin-finned,
and think of yourselves as solid walls
and straight flagpoles;
when night falls,
we all sway like seaweeds
longing to fly―
beyond this blue planet.