Morgan Michaels


Aquarium Iii - Poem by Morgan Michaels

Each morning, fingers come
to plumb my brim, release miasmal grease
that quavers off- loosening bow of viscid swill
like a mini oil spill
fronting every what-not way,
eelier than the Regenbogen, but as colorful;
a rain of ruby-red daphnia and bloodworms, followed by;
it fills my atmosphere like stringy hails-
my billows boil, my people swarm
in momentary frenzy
yet, have no alarm-
my waters will soon sleep, the fish retreat
vanish into the manifold corners of things.

And there's the brain-
at least, I call it that;
at least it's creased like one
with the requisite sulci and gyri
sitting a-squat the stream.
It musn't know it's actually a coral
it wouldn't be good for its ego, at all,
it wouldn't be good for its self-esteem,
sitting unbudging and bright like a pearl or a ping-pong ball.
'Round its borders graze spidery things
with eyes on stalks, angular and clear-
high-steppers, they've been here awhile
yet even I don't know their names-
you might miss them, if you blink
tip-tip-toeing through the drink.

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Comments about Aquarium Iii by Morgan Michaels

  • Rookie - 184 Points Brian Jani (6/23/2014 3:49:00 AM)

    Part three is even better keep up the good poetry (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Poem Edited: Monday, June 23, 2014


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