She lived in a bowl
On the kitchen countertop
At the end of a shaft of light
In the company of a waterwheel
Between the rim's frill
Where the glass thickened to a lip
And the bowl's bottom, carpeted
With Perl mutter shingle
Aligned, more or less
To cosmic north and south
Jeweled with yellow beads
Like the windows of an airbus.
Balanced in her heaven
By fins that beat dimly
A mouth that sucked in water
As if fueled by a rubber band,
Her eyes like ebony pin-heads
Her form horizontally striped blue-
Occasionally emitting a bubble
Or grazing at the waterline
She was a vertebrate all right
Highly evolved and alone
Little fish, little pond, big name-
Antigone. What became of you?
She lived in a bowl
On the kitchen countertop
At the end of a shaft of light
Antigone, what became of you?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really like this. Superb, quiet observational writing laced with affection. Excellent.