aquarium

lips with personality.

a silly mouth, open,

slowly catching life

in pillowed cheeks,

silently pushing a syllable

Puh. Puh. Puh.

through zen emptiness.

i wonder if she knows she's caged.

orange and gold

and flat like the sun in the sky.

she is thousands of miles removed,

from a lake in japan

that's now half-dead and dark

and thick with soda sludge

and pharmaceuticals.

next door are fish from the

tennessee river.

Born to dodge motorboats

and busted tires,

they are simpler, browner,

but they are equally displaced.

equally unquestioning.

maybe they're saved,

maybe they're doomed.

slippery bodies,

eyes like pennies,

all shine in the blue depths.

do they know that behind

two inches of plexiglass

lurk unimaginable horrors?

even a shark would tremor.