Fish Tank

She had a fish tank in her room
with a green light tinting the water.
The fish didn’t know where they came from.
They were the kind of orphans without
even the slightest conception of their parents,
and in a way that made it easier.

There were three of them
among the fake vegetation,
and plastic sunken ships.
She always talked about
buying more.
She used to have four,
but one night her boyfriend
got drunk and ate one of them
as a joke.

They were still shaken up
about that and hid whenever
he was around.
Usually in the dark sockets
of the porcelain skull that sat
in the center of their world.

When she was by herself though
they admired her from afar.
Even fish could see that she was beautiful.
At night while she slept they would
swim in circles and argue about
who loved her more.

These fights consumed their
every thought like water
soaking into a letter
no one ever got a chance to read.
They fought using the instincts
of their ancestors long destroyed
and dormant, but still there
in the deepest shine of their gills.

When it ended the victor
had two kills, and danced
figure eights through their blood.
It waited for her to awaken
to show her the true kind
of love.