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
