Fish Tank Poem by Prabhakar Subramaniam

What pleasure is there
In watching fish
Put to work like this
In this diner;
They are meant to
Keep the chi flowing
Though themselves trapped
Within these four walls
Brought up short
In every direction;
Bright shades with fins
That just can't stay still
If birds could be called
Fish that fly
These would be
Birds that swim
Rather, performing gamely,
As briskly as the waiters
Darting between the tables - -
It's again the black one
That bears the cross of darkness
Like the sun-dyed native
Driven from his habitat
And called the evil one
For wanting it back