Luminous, seductive, familiar yet strange—and utterly true.  It is a gorgeous, important poem, a prayer, a memory.  —Sy Montgomery, The Soul of an Octopus

Richmond’s sequence of poems tells the story of the dolphin lover and one woman’s enchantment . . .  the boto serves as a metaphor for the impulses and forbidden fantasies, the deferred desires and passed over passions that lurk beneath the surface of our ordinary lives.  –Terry House, The Middlesex Beat


He comes from underwater
cities, a busy life, streets lined with–
how do they tell it?–panpipes and market squares,                
children playing, his own, others, 
comes out of the river at night                    
a man, dressed in white. The moon hovers
and tilts, a bowl half empty, half full.
He is searching for other music and finds
her, open, eager for his
secrets. Where before a ripple
sufficed, her heart’s yearning, a glimpse,
pink as sunset, gray as rain,
now she dances for a spell, her hand
on his flank real enough.
She cannot tell
waking from sleeping. Eyes wide
as the Encante, he takes her
down by the river, changes
the chemistry of her body,
leaves her
a kiss.