Mallow

by Michael Macklin

They must talk,
the flowers and the fishes.
One overhanging the other,
pale pink at the water’s edge.

One world bleeds into the other,
the rose of an inner salmon
reflected in a flower’s upturned face.
Small breezes stir ripples.

Small-handed waves
clear the mirror
allowing us to see
how alike we all are.

Tell us what you think