Small phrases come up,
like a crescendo of minnows
escaping lumbering whales.
Singing a real note, their gills go
fast, trill, through the silence
of the water.
Bubbles billow, breach
glassine black, opaque
like the big bang in stardust
—an arrow progressing
across time.
In shallow waters,
nothing’s a silo.
Not even a minnow in Minnesota
wants to leap out of the lake.
Nick Godec writes poetry and short fiction, with works appearing in Brief Wilderness, Flights, Grey Sparrow, Hedge Apple, Pennsylvania Literary Journal, Rue Scribe, Sierra Nevada Review, and Steam Ticket. He has a B.A. in history and an MBA from Columbia University and currently works in finance in New York City. Nick enjoys spending time with his wife Julia and their miniature pinscher, Emma.