You are not snuggly
nor cuddly, don’t fetch,
don’t do tricks,
but for three years
you have followed us
around the kitchen
with your bulgy eyes,
and you’ve outlived
every other fish.
You have carried
the weight of a young
boy’s love and appear
to have found peace
inside a cage. These
days watching you list
and rest are painful,
heartrending days. It’s not
your way to caress or kiss,
but it’s human to want to hold
what is dying. It’s human
to want to nurture what hurts.
And how human we are,
sitting beside you, gulping
the terrible air, huddled
into each other, holding
what love we can.