Michael Hettich

OTTER

When I am an otter amid the mangrove roots
I remember the moon-snail, the indigo snake
coiled in palmetto; I remember cypress bones,

slow tide, while pelicans circle and splash into
Florida Bay. I dive down into the tannin-water

and my head looks like a man
swimming toward the darker shade,
the denser mangrove forest, where I seem to disappear.

In the evenings I love to wander through the city
along the stylish busy streets, window shopping, blending in.