A fish out of water
I’m like a fish out of water Think about it for a moment Do you see a fish on a bicycle? Gliding through the medieval theme tune Of an English university town? Or do you perhaps see a dace? Glistening in the small pale wet hands of a 13-year-old boy Offering up the catch to the lens of his father’s smart-phone A grin spreading like mildew over a photograph in the attic J R Hartley remains stock still in his grave at this moment A fish out of water floundering on the unhooking mat on the bank It is not necessary to use one but against regulations not to As I wake into each day I am such a fish Lured from the velvety depths of my freshwater natural habitat Dreaming of my other son’s desire to buy a sports car Or my own promotion to transgender Professor I flounder motionless under the duvet and gasp for something. Air? A reason? A light? My gills flap as I struggle to readjust to my new circumstances in a world of actual pain. Living is the oxygen of pain see. My gills ...