it felt like it was made out of bodies
but really it was made out of language
illuminated in white fluorescent letters on a scoreboard
that kept a record of the words we used
the private language that accumulated between us
vulnerable
like a small goldfish in a plastic bag
left on a park bench
that accidentally rolled into the sewer
and drifted out to sea
a bag of fresh water and a fish in it
surrounded by an ocean
until the plastic gave way
and the fish escaped
and used its muscles to inhale through its gills
trying desperately to filter oxygen out of the salty water
eventually dying of a tiny heart attack
and all the while
making adorable splashing noises
This is the final of a three-part poetry series by Oscar Schwartz. Read part one and two. Image from Wikipedia.
