Unhooking the Lip

for Courtney Sina Meredith

She cups my name in her hands
like an undersized fish, unhooks 

his lip, slips him back into shoals
beneath our feet that’ll eddy him off

to someplace beyond reach. She invites
me to close my eyes in this too-bright

room where there is no running 
water or waxing moon. I hear it weir

across rocks, vortex in my ears: her voice 
is a raised hand out of the rip, as if to signal

drowning yet guides me until we’re neck-deep
She asks who I think about when I picture

the ocean. I trace his voice, watch his face float 
to the surface. She curls a phrase, Ka kite ano 

on the sandbank, presses a mask to my mouth
We wade out to the wreck, peer through

cracked glass, shine a light into the belly
of his demise. She brushes my hand over 

a new fish, mouths something I can’t catch
Stroke its gills as I feel the tail thrill against  

my wrist. When I open my eyes, she holds 
the hook. There is blood on the line.

*note: Ka kite ano is a Maori phrase for “until I see you again”*