Friday, July 18, 2008

Tankfish: An Ode

By Caroline Wood
The torpor of the afternoon
Had forced poor Thomas to presume
That life could offer naught

To ease the horrid, weighty gloom
That hung about his musty room
And poisoned all his thought.

He could not write! He could not eat!
His mind was empty, yet replete
With boorish, noisome waste.
No flighty muse would take a seat;
No inspiration came to greet
The poet’s fussy taste.

In his pain, his head lolled right,
And suddenly beheld a sight
That makes priests crane their necks:
A humble fish, his baby girl
Were caught up in a watery whirl,
Yes, they were having sex!

At that moment, in a flash,
Tom realized how to make a splash,
What muse could grant his wish:
For ‘tis not knights and nightingales
Or kings and queens that merit tales,
But nature's gem: tankfish!

Although our fish’s walls are glass,
They’ve secret lives we cannot guess,
Dark dramas without match;
If Goldie dies immediately,
Don’t blame her; it may just be
That you’re not such a catch.

If more youth witnessed piscine death,
They might not be on crystal meth
Or smoking their lungs black;
A proper sense of gravity
Is hardly something to decree
A worse life choice than crack.

Dear readers, take it straight from me:
All other pets are mere debris;
Dogs slobber, cats are cold;
But every fish is true and good,
Inspiring, noble, sexy, shrewd
And worth his weight in gold.


Shpiegie said...

rhyming? rather impressive! If I didn't already agree with Lauren on the uselessness of fish, i might just vote for you

c. grace said...

Alas! But it is so much more than a mere rhyme. Explain it to your science-major followers, Lauren... it is my dying wish.

Shpiegie said...

They wouldn't understand poetry...we see science-and that's it!