the bold interpreter—300 million years of cephalopods spewing ink for concealment—for poison or healing for refuge. Plumes across the depths— which is to say; Dearest F, I made so many notes today in my mind—as if at backyard target practice; —aiming sloppy at the heart of it in passing hoping that something might stick, or transfer but no—not without ink— the go-between. Tell me, my love about your ink. Tell me about mine. Heart to blued fingers to grooved paper—or wood—or canvas could be skin—the pygmy octopus glowing in the depths disgorging a pseudomorph of ink —a fantastic doppelgänger—conjured from ejections—used to mislead the predator.
Donna Spruijt-Metz is psychology professor, poet, and recent MacDowell Fellow. Her poetry appears in Copper Nickel, RHINO, Poetry Northwest, the Tahoma Literary Review, the Inflectionist Review, and elsewhere. Her chapbooks are ‘Slippery Surfaces’ and ‘And Haunt the World’ (with Flower Conroy). Her full length ‘General Release from the Beginning of the World’ is forthcoming (2023, Free Verse Editions). Her website is https://www.donnasmetz.com/