Fish Bowled

Of bowled fish and their merry
go round cheerie world -- flash
and dump of muck --  verily,

preening a style:  plash
of fins, so light, so lithe
like a flick of black eyelash;

yours I’m thinking of, wide
eyed, as you often are
sitting serious here beside

me like a fish jarred,
cornered, testy, somewhat
vexed: maybe a remark

I made, your thin lid shut
in a minor argument
I’ve no heart to rebut.

Let’s start again; you resent
the fact of fishy matters,
though you must have pent

up stuff, uneasy and sadder
than you want to admit,
maybe wrenching altogether

yourself (my mad hatter) fit
to make a scene while I cow-
tow and pray we can sit

sedate – like fish allowing
themselves to revolve,
not knowing just how --

but keeping their vows
(in spite of the muddle);
watching dissention dissolve.

Page 3

Copyright 2007, Lynne Potts.
 All Rights Reserved by Author.