I gaze into monkey eyes, they gaze back.
Their reflecting surfaces,
deep pools of experience and thought, knowledge;
memories of predator calls and ripe fruit and
swiped snacks from temple tourists.
I am in her eyes, she is in mine.
She does more with less.
A leaf is an umbrella is a cup.
As seasons cycle,
I crouch in the same tree as she;
on a separate branch of the same limb
yet still in view.
Our young go forth on new shoots.
My branch is not special
just because it is mine, and
I can see all the roots that came before.
This poem first appeared in ionosphere (2024).
—
Catherine Puma (she/they) is a queer writer with a bachelor’s degree in Environmental Sciences and English and a master’s degree in Tropical Marine Ecosystem Management. A member of the Poetry Society of Virginia and the Women’s Aquatic Network, their work has been published in ionosphere, Lit Shark Magazine, and The Blotter Magazine. Their website is www.catherinepumawrites.com.
