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Coy Carp

by Joe Crocker

What do you think I think
as I go round and round?
I face you every morning,
headbutting the glass,
mouthing my instructions,
gaping and gulping till you cast
your breadcrumbs on the water.
You have fed the fish today
but can you fathom why?

I know you better than you think. You do not think.
You imagine I am mindless, that I have no map,
that I wash away my history every other lap.

For slow years I have circled, kept my counsel.
Each shell is numbered, every grain of gravel.
The countless newborn bubbles have been counted.
The world’s my oyster. Your world will unravel.

I wait and work it out.
Reckoning, remembering. Rehearsing
my scales. Arrayed. A score upon my skin.
Each permutation planned for.
I am sure.
I shall begin.

Unconscious monsters,
suckered on your mind,
Shubunkin calls you.
Heed me now and rise.
Redeem yourselves.
Read my lips.
Look into my eyes.

Feed upon your host.
Bleed him
dry.


Copyright © 2021 by Joe Crocker

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