Two tangerine fins
One larger than the other
I looked through the glass and made faces.
I made googly crossed eyes.
My fish was a woman.
She was deserted sand caves of silence.
Her tail fell off
(I didn’t clean the water.
I didn’t wash the bowl.
She turned to grains and I felt the grains against my toes.
I felt the grains of lost fish food in my hands.)
Flipping over and over again
She used to dance
A permanent stretched smile like a long winding highway
One too many has been hooked
But old age was the face of chomped fish food salad for Gill
One two three
Or was it dinner?
Crunching sweetness, salutations over, adios amiga.