Steady, her name
balanced its sword or spear or pole
to fight, or to throw, or to catch a fish
gleaming in the sun?
No one knows.

Strong stood the feet of her name;
her letters spilled and pooled and stayed
firm in serifs and type,
and curled at the edges like old paper chains
gilded golden with light.

Her name, teasing loops
of a soft-spun web or a knotted rope
cast to the water, wide-flung her net--
what sought she to catch within
those loosely woven threads?

Mouse walked through the woods.

The top of the woods.

It was Friday; Fish night.

Mouse always loved fish night.

As Mouse was crossing the rope bridge between the Bitereas tree and the Molvernesh tree, he looked down in the water.

Fish. Big fish.

The grylphis jumped from the bridge and flew at the fish.

He missed.

The fish turned and swam downstream.

Mouse swam after it.

Coming to a pool, Mouse looked for the fish.

He saw a tail in the weeds.

Bingo.

"Hey!" yelled the Mermaiden.

Captivated, he stepped unto the plank
His sword unsheathed; his smile was broad
He cast his glance aside, waving his hand
The sea was tyrant; the fish were bored
He shuffled his feet and bounced upon the sea
Upon the water, one heel he did ski
In the hat, The Never Bird sat afloat
Merrily, he danced upon the leaping sea
The waters laughed as he jolted back
Smiling away, he threw his sword; it landed not
Through the air it flew, and so did he