Fish School

a thematic structure built entirely out of stale Cheerios stuck to the roof of my mouth

as I sing out moans of insomnia blurred by an ancient Sankrit etched into the side of my skull

allowing for small gold fishes to pass through on their way to school

to learn that they are not cows, nor do they grave,

yet they understand what day they’ll be let out of their cages to uncover

the great mystery of their life, that I suck at taking care of fishes, but I’m okay with eating them