An Animal Rights Poem from All-Creatures.org

 



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Dirge of the Tearoom Fish By Sam Gold

We the fish who glide through a gilded tomb—
Our colors seen though not our souls,
Our fragile fins and scales, not the dearth of room,
Or the memory of our ancestors’ wiles,
As round and round the false vegetation looms—

One of us will die ‘fore the sun escapes
The stars’ ascent o’er the Master’s frozen veil,
When the mistral sings of doom and a colder day,
And a light is borne aloft by the fearful eyes,
As round and round the false vegetation looms.

We do not pale for terror is our plight.
Unseen as the breath of a crow who swiftly dies
We die or live as a mournful ocean sighs,
For the watery grace of old is a womb of death,
And round and round the false vegetation looms.

©Sam Gold, 2024

dead Fishes
Photo taken at Whole Foods by Sam Gold

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