The Indestructible Fish

Mary T. Kapusta

The cat pulled you out of your little world
Pulled you onto the brown carpet floor
I found your bleeding bruised body and
Plopped you back into the bowl.

You head was a white gash that bubbled
And you sank to the blue pebbles
But you made it through the night
Flicked your tail to prove your life.

Your red and purple body turned black brown
Your flowing wings floated limp
Like sails torn by the hand of god.
But you swam on.

Around that little bowl, keeping near the floor
Not daring to take food from the surface
Parts of your body floated in the cloudy water
You took your own flesh and tried to stay warm.

The red came back to your belly
And your gash became a scar
As you swam around your universe
Your tail soon unfurled.

Now you don’t trust tabby strangers
And your black eyes search for calico
And you healed and lived in that little dirty bowl
Thinking of the softness of that brown carpet floor.