the first fish on the moon

Oh to be a wobbegong
hiding underneath
a warm sea,
well camouflaged and resting
until it’s time
for her tea.
Or to be a coelacanth
ever unchanging
in the deep,
older than the dinosaurs
but not extinct
just asleep.

Some follow the salmon king
leaping glorious
sex and death,
while others play great white sharks
swimming without
pause for breath.
But I am just a catfish
crawling painfully
on dry ground,
stepping small with no footprints
on this new world
I have found.

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