12/395 Nudibranch

When they ask me why I would name my daughter after a sea slug
I correct them.
The proper term is nudibranch
from: nudus, naked, exposed
and: -branchi, the gills,
necessary for absorbing oxygen from sea water
They are beautiful creatures,
Bodies soft and muscular,
Colors vibrant,
Adorned with frilled ridges, bumps, and soft dorsal spines
There is an exposition in this.

To call them "sea slug" is to miss the elegance,
the complexity.
A snail without a shell,
they are not to be pitied.
Do not assume they long for shells.
Their intestines are still twisted,
helical,
proof enough their shells were cast off long ago,
relics of a time when their flesh
was vulnerable, insufficient,
when they needed protection  from outside.
There is a metaphor here.

Skin and ridges so smooth and delicate,
colors so vibrant
it is natural to infer weakness
but these colors inspire warning
serve as camouflage among the corals
keep them hidden and safe
and beneath that smooth skin
await toxins
stored for just that moment
when a predator strikes
making the same foolish assumption.
This is foreshadowing.

Nudibranchs are bold thieves
Stealing toxins from digested sponges,
storing chloroplasts from cells of algae,
whole and unharmed,
as prisoners of another kingdom
to manufacture food
just beneath their skin.
Even nematocysts
stinging cells of jellyfish and hydroids
hair trigger harpoons of neurotoxin
are consumed intact, unfired,
transported by digestive folds,
installed carefully along dorsal ridges
a volley,
a toxic counter-strike at the ready,
defense on another organism's dime
There is irony in the outcome.

And when nudibranchs love
it does not look like love
It is genderless battle
aggressive and raw
requiring offense and defense
feints and attacks
each creature striving to pierce
tear into the other
where no pore yet exists
And only the victor
is unburdened by the outcome.
This is the turning point,
This is revelation.

When they try to tell me how adorable my daughter is
I correct them.
This child is more sonnet
than greeting card.
My daughter's laughter
is a sunset of smoke and mirrors
With primitive speech,
her simple words and phrases,
she brings more belly laughs
more lumps in the throat
to this grown man
than any poet on their best day.
And when she cries
it can be so
annoying
and yet she gets me to pick her up anyway
and makes me love her for that, too.
This will be the epilogue.

She will never be a sea slug.
She is more than just beautiful.
Her vulnerability, deceptive.
She is a thief
No doubt one day she will pierce the heart she has stolen
I will relish the pain.
She is dangerously beautiful.
If they can't see the nudibranch in her
they haven't been reading
carefully.