In the crowded yard, the oily blue smoke
Of an eel supper, the eel looks on.
He is home for the summer. She is home for the summer
Metamorphosing, the one in the other,
Androgynous, ambivalent, slipping in and out
Of the local, the universal,
Reading about itself, in the Book of the Eel,
As a disappearing species,
Toying with its own myths, renewing its passports,
Wondering whether or not a child is possible,
Longing, unconsciously, for autumn
As the tractor roars all night, and the pilot lights flash
In the fields outside. For the night phosphorescenceOf cities, the lifelong shedding of skins.