Friday 22 November 2013

#57 - If The Fish Doesn't Talk To You

Snubbed by a dozen tenches of substance,
I take my petition to the barbel,
hoping she will see reason.

Her silver whiskers lash
in the turbid bottom of the tank.
'It's like this,' I say,
then I tell her what it is like.

Her wide mouth gasps
at the cool water. She swats the mud
with her orange anal fin.
I wait.
For six straight days, I wait.
Her lip barbs glint like safety pins.

Still nothing.

No comments:

Post a Comment