Fish, Singular
The last living fish
Drifts alone in its tank,
Darting from corner
To corner, searching
For something new —
Anything; some food
Or some kind of company.
It may recall a time
Surrounded by friends
And foes, all wiggling
And bustling about the
Freshwater, fighting for
Space and dodging
One another all day.
And now, only isolation,
Walled within hard glass.
The last living fish
Dives down to the pebbles
And nudges them aside,
Stirring quite a racket,
Digging to just get out!
Through the light,
Through the dark,
Its tiny mind drones on,
Drifting in the stillness
Of the solitary tank.
About the Poet
Paul Whelan is a poet and publisher from Sheffield, England. His work has appeared in anthologies from Valley Press and Greenteeth Press, Forge Zine, York Literary Review, and has been published by Renard Press and Ergi Press. He is the editor of Acid Bath Publishing. Find him on Twitter: @PR_Whelan.