The Fish
I want to say that I've phoned you
a dozen times this week
and sometimes the dog has answered
and sometimes the parrot
and once
the imperturbable fish in their aquarium
revolved through my ear
like fossils of your tongue
(This is to be recited in those silences which come upon
bars when the juke box and the conversations stop at
the same time for no apparent reason.)
(This is to be recited in the laziness of Sunday afternoons
when yawns are buckets filling with sunlight.)
(This is to be recited late at night on a streetcorner as
the bus retreats into the distance, into the blurred
sound of old cities rusting under water.)
