Tuesday, October 16, 2012

To the Friend Who Asked Me to Care for Her Fish While She was Away on Vacation

Your fish are dying. I'm sorry,
I should have washed my hands before I fed them.
Now there's a mini oil-slick of lotion
floating on the surface, just like in the Gulf of Mexico
but with bergamot essence and calendula extract.
The Spirea got kind of... unhealthy. The neon tetras
aren't getting enough oxygen, I guess,
they look dim and blotchy.

I'm tempted to make some wisecrack about luxury taxes--
your rotting pets, the price for my perfect skin--
but that would be insensitive to your grief
and demean this ecological catastrophe.
So instead, I have written a requiem for the Siamese fighting fish
and am working on a dirge for the dragon wrasse.
I promise you won't have to see them suffer.
I'll take care of it.
You won't miss them a bit.

--another word salad poem
Available! High-Voltage Lines, Knocking from Inside

No comments: