Sad little Beta blue fish
So close to the water line,
Floating like a lily pad.
The metallic-blue scales have spread
A sickly grey,
Its sickle cells have drained to its belly
Like blood through a colander.
The once beautiful tail that trailed
Like gossamer
Has been shredded by a paw with claws
And now hangs limp like the strands of foil
That rain from the handlebars of girls’ bikes.
It dips forward,
Puckered mouth pointing southeast,
Body rigid and straight
Like the signs of a crossroads.
The plastic plant
That props it at the top of the tank steadies,
Otherwise it would bob like a buoy.
I still can see
The tiny pulse of breath in its bulging eyes,
Two tiny black beads,
Which easily could have been beads strewn
From a necklace thread.
It begins to sink, and then frantically
(If a fish can be frantic)
Takes a gurgle of breath at the water’s trim,
Its head separating slightly from its body
As though an attempt on its life has been made.
The slit in the throat is actually only a gill gap.
It teeters —
Its head bumps the underside of the water
Yet doesn’t…quite