I visited the aquarium,
saw all you pretty preeners.
Angels, Tetras, Neons,
Double Reds, Corydoras,
fanning your tails
to the ohs and ahs of the gawkers.
I did not see your brothers
and sisters that wait
for the hook you will never smell,
the blue gill, perch, crappie,
bass, catfish—plebeians
of inland lakes,
who will swim carefree,
until they bite that barb
strain and pull
jump and flop
against their death.
They will never swim in a tank
with colorful grasses, fake diver bubbling,
toy stone castle,
food sprinkled in daily by soft hands,
the sweet hum of the filter,
protecting their delicate lungs.
Do those who can afford to sup
on grouper, snapper, orange roughy,
oysters, lobster, calamari,
get to adore
the prettiest, most delicate
water world debutantes?
I see my reflection in the glass.
Originally Published in Monterey Poetry Review