Sea Butterfly

Pallid smallness of ocean, sometimes called
sea snail, your whole life

you steer by calcification, let the shell-weight
drop you like a plumb line
 
into pelagic murk, rough calculus of safety.
Water columns and gravity your

pantomime of control. The tiny
pulsing of mollusk code spells,
 
repeats, spells: survive.
The sinking of your little sub over and over
 
becomes the familiar tide, anchor
to yourself. But now you stir to shift
 
frailty into sail. Now to unfurl
transparent shuddering wisp

into a stubborn rising against the brute
current. You unfold defiance

through the gash
in your armor, a reticulated mouth
 
open to the world. The tongue tender beating
lobes, announcing battle. What you swim

reverses the momentum. What you loft higher
names itself.