THE LAST FISH

THE LAST FISH

The last Fish

carved from pine and painted in acrylic by Robert margetts

Rain so wet

nair it quench a thirst

spat forth mist from clouds so gray

taps the parched soil for humans to pray.

Evil that plagued its king

live the story that could not unwind.

Lips open on dry banks perched

spill their life into dirt so baked.

To wolf the air through gills so hot

and flow the desire to appease the pain.

Dew that could no longer cling to scorched blades,

wed to the inevitable and knelt before the land.

Not a hand of water to save

nor a ton of hope to give.

Time as seen in the pupils of an eye

emit the truth and prepare to die.

Swallowed the pain and took to his bed,

water the blood of Earth, the color of red.