Epistemologies of Language

I was listening to a program on NPR
while I cleaned my office, then coiled a string 
of tiny winking bulbs attached to wire around 

the lamp on my desk. Because it's a hand-
me-down from one of my daughters, the plastic 
battery case is broken. I have to jiggle 

one of them loose to turn the thing off. 
On the radio, a Brazilian neuroscientist 
was talking about experiments that show, 

seemingly, how fish may experience pleasure 
and even seek it out. There are fish engaged 
in relationships of mutualism— "cleaner fish" 

like bluestreak wrasses remove blood-
sucking parasites from other fish, enhancing 
their clients' ability to survive while assuring 

themselves of food. But other fish, 
like the threadfin butterflyfish, come back 
for a cleaning even if they harbor no parasites. 

It's as if they might remember how it felt—
little tongues lighting up the white and
yellow chevrons down their backs. 
  
Meanwhile, the fairy lights flickered.
I could have discarded them, but there's 
something appealing in the idea 

of preserving small things that barely
warm the room, much less the corner. 
Perhaps I'm guilty of falling in love 

with meaning that harbors metaphor, 
in love with the promises language offers
though it might not guarantee their truth.