Up, up, slenderAs an eel�sChild, weavingThrough water, our lonelyPipefish seeks out his dinner,Scanty at best; he blinksCut-diamond eyes�snap�heGrabs morsels so smallOnly a lens pinpoints them,But he ranges all overThat plastic preserve�dorsalFin tremulous�snap�andAnother �edillaOf brine shrimp�s gone ...We talk on of poetry, of love,Of grammar; he looksAt a living comma�Snap�sizzling aboutIn his two-gallon CaribbeanAnd grazes on umlauts for breakfast.His pug nosed, yellowMate, aproned in gloom,Fed rarely, slumped,Went deadwhite, as we argued on;That rudder fin, round as aPizza cutter, at theEnd of his two inchFluent stick self, lets his eyesPilot his mouth�snap ...Does his kind remember? Can our kind forget?
(Photo from here.)
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