This is an ode to that octopus trapped behind glass

walls we shouldn’t tap lined the interminable hall
& fatigued watchers froze on the central moving walkway their heads
glided past like schools of fusiliers; I watched him
watch them, and watched him watch me. He hid
behind some complicated name for seaweed he curled
beneath an artificially placed rock he changed
colors three times but I didn’t know
the significance of       red/blue/red
it was a ghost of a conversation but he tapped
on the glass
time and I agreed

Jennifer Vaknine is a writer from Austin living in the Northeast. Her work is forthcoming in Riggwelter and Gone Lawn.

See more of her work in 7.2