Reading With The Fishes
For many years I lived
in a hollowed-out book
before I was eaten by fishes.
I can't say how
they found me. I thought
I was safe there
wrapped in my blanket
of words, deep in the good
leather smell but
fish it seems
are surprisingly quick
and genuinely hungry.
At first it was nibble and tickle
but soon my eyelids were history,
and I won't be needing lipstick any more.
After that, I took my words
and went to live
with the animals.
We have an understanding: they
don't write poetry, and I
don't have them for dinner.
April 2025
 |
| My second copy--wore out the first |
posted for the Word List
Images: Fisherman's Shack, 1994 © Jacek Yerka Fair Use
Immortal Poems, 2025, ©joyannjones
I am grinning big after reading this. One MUST come to certain understandings! I was delighted by the fey notion of a reader being found by fishes and though I know you aren't being deadly serious here, I thought that was inspired. As for the rest, as Cat Stevens once sang, if I ever lose my mouth (or lips!) I won't have to talk no more. ;-)
ReplyDeleteI love this so much, and I am grinning too. I adore the closing stanza, but the whole thing is just a treat to read.
ReplyDeleteA surreal and enticing romp - fabulous! Jae
ReplyDeleteI was thinking our current leader like a mob boss would love to feed us to the fishes. Love this poem, especially the ending. I love a good arrangement with the animals.
ReplyDeleteI love this. "and I won't be needing lipstick anymore" made me grin. Clever and enjoyable poem.
ReplyDeletecharming. as the others, a huge grin. i'm afraid i'd not be welcome, as i still eat fish , but not mammals. maybe the barn will have me. ~
ReplyDeleteThat opening is stunning, and I fell for it hook, line and sinker! :)
ReplyDelete"soon my eyelids were history,
and I won't be needing lipstick any more."
A wealth of words couldn't say it as well as those two figurative images. Poets and prophets always flee to the forests or the deserts with animals as company, unwelcomed by the world.
I love this - the surprising, creative narrative. Our suspension of disbelief effortless, of course we are eaten by fish. "But soon my eyelids were history, and I won't be needing lipstick any more." were the best lines, yet I loved the ending too, the world trading our survival for us putting down our pens. Because we and the world are indeed eaten by what we write, by writing itself, we are inside the fish of our words like Jonah, and maybe today our poems are whales, or only minnows, or beasts of the forest, animal truth the world does not always want to know or see.
ReplyDelete