USA

damondemer@aol.com 

Fishery

Winter winds burned my face
And the sky was gray
Like the ground.
The air was sharp
And smelled of sulfur.
Silver fish filled a long shallow
Pool. There were many fish.
They bred them here 
And grew them here.
They lived for man's purpose.

It is too crowded 
There is more fish than water
It's fearful and angry and undiscerning
In this water.
The ocean is not far
The fish don't know that.
An eagle's eye pierces
His next meal, with the
Gleam of an able sickle.
The pool is full and easy.

He will soon make an
Arcane dive and find his mark.
It will be an effortless catch.
Misfortune will drill his talons
Deep into the fleshy side
Of a thrashing fish,
And he will die,
Never really having lived at all.
The ocean will not be far.
No one will seem to know.

Bipolarity

How curious this earthly frame of pink
And strands of amber that form and feature
Us quite apart from nature's beasts, we think,
Although nature proves a better teacher
And well lets us from our lineage drink
The knowledge that we're but a creature.
A vessel with an agrarian link
But fit to house an internal preacher.
This is the challenge of our human fate
To abide by biology and grace
How often the first contends with its mate!
Don't misunderstand, I'm glad with my place
But thoughts often relish a soon come time
When body is separated from mind.

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