His Tiny Fish (Decenelle) Poem by Leslie Alexis
His Tiny Fish (Decenelle)
Pity played part in his platter.
Salted fish eggs cannot ease
Hunger, even if it’s many,
Neither can the tiny trees
Stuck between the plated choppers
Blunted by the open breeze
Made cold from within his marrow.
Fallen birds become rubbish
Vultures feasting cannot clean all;
Yet he keeps his tiny fish.
Copyright © 2011 Leslie Alexis
Thursday, January 13, 2011
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5/7/2024 5:09:26 AM # 1.0.0.1119
