Your Catfish Friend

If I were to live my life

in catfish forms

in scaffolds of skin and whiskers

at the bottom of a pond

and you were to come by one evening

when the moon was shining

down into my dark home

and stand there at the edge of my affection

and think, “It’s beautiful

here by this pond. I wish somebody loved me,”

I’d love you and be your catfish

friend and drive such lonely

thoughts from your mind

and suddenly you would be at peace,

and ask yourself, “I wonder

if there are any catfish

in this pond? It seems like

a perfect place for them.”