by Mary K O’Melveny
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| This summer, Florida’s ocean water temperatures exceeded 100 degrees Fahrenheit. A recent scientific study revealed that rising water temperatures can cause crucial memory loss to damsel fish and other reef-dwelling species. The fish in the study who were subjected to temperatures as high as F 89.6 did not fare well, failing “to find shelter, recognize their neighbors or find food easily.” —The New York Times, August 23, 2023 |
As Fahrenheit rose, some damsel fish forgot
where to find their food sources. With each degree,
memories shifted far away. First to go:
finding a meal. Next was fear. Who posed a threat.
Where danger lay. Which reefs might safely hide
them, what might portend trouble in sargassum
seas or bubble upward in their pathways
turning marbles of algae into floating
spectral groupers or snappers. As memory
fluttered away like flotsam, reef fish failed
to thrive, survive. Each day’s heightened heat seared
off some tiny thought, some echo
that time had taught, some souvenir of before.
Yesterday’s cache of jeweled thoughts scattered
now into a vast void. Who can ever
truly know what is lost as heat sears, scalds?
As oceans warm, equal risk befalls both
predators and prey. Who will remain alive
as seas simmer and pale coral reefs blanch
white as brides? Will these warmed fish discard scales
of azure, sapphire, magenta, or wispy
tails of sunshine yellow, peachy orange?
Will they recall where eggs were laid or where
sharks stayed hidden as reefs shrank? What tales
will they recount as awareness shapeshifts,
then fades away like images in an infinity
mirror? As they spin through steamy waters,
adrift in the present tense, our questions
float along beside them. Will we have a future?
What flashbacks will follow Fukishima?
where to find their food sources. With each degree,
memories shifted far away. First to go:
finding a meal. Next was fear. Who posed a threat.
Where danger lay. Which reefs might safely hide
them, what might portend trouble in sargassum
seas or bubble upward in their pathways
turning marbles of algae into floating
spectral groupers or snappers. As memory
fluttered away like flotsam, reef fish failed
to thrive, survive. Each day’s heightened heat seared
off some tiny thought, some echo
that time had taught, some souvenir of before.
Yesterday’s cache of jeweled thoughts scattered
now into a vast void. Who can ever
truly know what is lost as heat sears, scalds?
As oceans warm, equal risk befalls both
predators and prey. Who will remain alive
as seas simmer and pale coral reefs blanch
white as brides? Will these warmed fish discard scales
of azure, sapphire, magenta, or wispy
tails of sunshine yellow, peachy orange?
Will they recall where eggs were laid or where
sharks stayed hidden as reefs shrank? What tales
will they recount as awareness shapeshifts,
then fades away like images in an infinity
mirror? As they spin through steamy waters,
adrift in the present tense, our questions
float along beside them. Will we have a future?
What flashbacks will follow Fukishima?
Mary K O’Melveny, a retired labor rights lawyer, lives with her wife near Woodstock, New York. Mary’s award-winning poetry has appeared in many print and on-line literary journals and anthologies and on national and international blog sites, including The New Verse News. Mary’s much-praised fourth book of poetry Flight Patterns was published by Kelsay Books in August 2023. A Pushcart Prize nominee, Mary was a finalist in the 2023 Poetry Competition sponsored by Slippery Elm Literary Journal. She is also a co-author of two anthologies of writing by The Hudson Valley Women’s Writing Group, including Rethinking The Ground Rules (Mediacs Books 2022).
