Fishes

There's a fish eye throbbing,
aching, reaching for the hand that holds it
but it cannot hold, it can
only watch, a slithery soul,
feeling the pile up of red vehicles in its veins
coursing out a critical landfill

You held me in a car park, as if
all movement would come to a stop in me. A white amorphous body
with slow, twirling arms - pliable ghost branches -
dwindling into clouds...

I crashed onto a bedroom floor and you
were away, holding fish

a circle bulging with reflected human, slash
there is a mind slash and silky souls
slash
do not make a sound

slash

slash you held my guts
then threw me back,
how could you?

There are pools in bedrooms,
there are
underwater bedrooms
along from your place, which is stuffed with hooks and rods and caring
there is a house
and in that house
there is a human floating,
near the ceiling
upside down with an exposing slash on the torso

the illuminated aquarium on the high street, and in the night
strangers pass by, never noticing the red window,
but most
do feel
a molecule or two of blood on the tongue

The few that notice
always reply the same...a shrug of the shoulders and
'There's plenty more
fish
in the sea.'