You could almost as easily get a look
at the Holy Ghost as at the box jellyfish,
95 percent water drifting around in 100
percent water, so devoted to the will of
its environment—a virtual flower of Eden—
it doesn’t have to have a brain.
It can kill you in four minutes.
Imagine it going from its usual lambency
to flashing along at five feet per second.
You can barely tell it’s there, then
you’re dead, or scarred for life.
The man and woman across from me
could be on their honeymoon.
They are having a drink and suddenly he
looks through her and is all over
another woman at the end of the bar,
and then he is back, barely a shudder.
Not just the man, but any of us could be
the source of the pain, if we knew more
about it. Even our own bodies hurt
themselves, arthritis and so on.
It is no good reading Job,
because the wreck of his life
has already been explained in the prologue,
God and Satan having separate power issues.
Surfers sometimes wear two pair
of pantyhose to protect themselves
from jellyfish, one pair for the legs,
one for the arms. They cut a hole
in the crotch of the one to go over
the head. Since the stingers are too short
to get through nylon, we may not be looking
for a gross solution. It may be
so delicate we can just close our eyes
and stand around like blind people
until we feel it brush against us.