Grasping Those Two Fish, Carl!
Two Fish, Carl Sandberg
Their speech could not possibly have been scarlet
Unless they were dead,
Then, maybe, in the throes of being
Pulled in by a hook through the lip
MAYBE their speech could have been scarlet.
Or did you mean “scar-lipped”?
Late night typo, perhaps?
Oh, I get it… he kissed her, and she’s a biter.
But they kept on talking, bloody water and all.
Wait, though… they met in a bowl of molten gold air?
How did they breathe enough to speak,
Much less kiss? Must have been painful
On those gills – aquatic asthma!
Molten gold does not typically float around
In fishbowls, by the way – at least not in this
Universe.
That swinging from an arch thing?
Those seven rainbow sheens?
Was that one of those fish sex toys or something?
I’m confused. Swinger fish?
I’ve always thought of them as a rarity.
And, about the grotto, didn’t you say it was a bowl
Of molten gold air?
Or did he take her home?
Ok, I’ll buy the grotto bit.
The little boy fish hailed from the projects,
So to speak.
Ah, but the green feather dust…
Dead bird in the water?
Makes sense. Shaking their fins
As they each nibble a drumstick.
Ok, so, I guess we’ve got it straight now.
Two fish, met, had a one night stand
At his place,
Then grabbed a bite to eat
When a bird dropped dead.
Probably one shot by a hunter
With an old bird dog.
Ok. We’re good.