single white, bending its spine against the wind's fire
 

what does a white flower have to do with these fish?
when a fish, if all fish survive like wind-flowers, their names having nothing at all to do with wind, since all flowers hold up their loose columns

your wrists are columns

wind is not fire
fire is a slow hot wind, modifying instead of passing over

fish never know fire only patches of warm water and each other
when they drift towards the surface lit up by the sun

your hands then, i say, are fish that know fire

they are white and yellow fish, these fish
one seems to stop in the water silently pondering your bare legs
reach your index finger through the surface   the fish escapes away from your shadow

your hand disappearing slowly, thievish