Fishes Poem by Frank Bana

I do not really know
If the little fish are hungry
Even for goldfish, they are inarticulate
And their silence so disturbs me

I am ignorant of the stories
Of the fishes on my plate
Were they raised up in Poseidon nets
Or dragged out by their lower lips
To this lifeless destination

Did worms burrow
Pathways through their faces
As they gasped their last
In chemical disarray

How can I trust the souls of fish
Whose eyes I cannot see

I need to determine why
This relationship is empty
I glance into the tank
I gaze on politicians
Who with fish-eyed calculation
Play cost-benefit with the planet

I remember a time
When a fish was a quite rare thing
Caught or bred with care
And put to death in beauty.