FISH

cold-blooded beings

living out the rest of their days

in our bathtub

their long supple

bodies end in transparent tails

their eye bulging out

just as one day they’ll bulge out

from their cut-off heads

they survive on the oxygen in the water

one wall separates them from my room

and another from the leaves, the mist

the streets, the buildings, the cars

among which I live

water and food are important to them

but maybe the source of light

is not important to them and it’s all the same

if it comes from the sun or the socket

water and food are important to them

but maybe knowing that someday they will die

is not important to them nor knowing their family connections

to other long supple bodies

and so it goes

their bodies will quiver on the floor

sharp blows will flatten their brains

their innards will be carefully pulled out

and tossed into the trash with their scales

the living fish will be transformed into a poached or fried one

and its head will be thrown into the soup

this is not an isolated incident

all humanity is involved in this

fish processing plants run with blood

while some people write poems,

paint, or make films in protest,

most say “bon appétit”

and all this is observed by silent fish spirits

Translated by Virlana Tkacz and Wanda Phipps