by Hannah Lemons<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Adopted on a whim, you were
\nbagged and handed over\u2014
\nconsidering the lilies of the field,
\ndid you feel afraid, of little faith?<\/p>\n
Enunciating silent \u201coh\u201ds
\nfiltering life across tiny gills,
\nGilbert, you were christened:
\nhackneyed alliteration & hodgepodge accommodation<\/p>\n
in a bowl, in a bathroom\u2014say it\u2019s in
\njest\u2014you ingest flakes that
\nkeep you gaping, staring down another
\nlong, double-barreled day<\/p>\n
metamorphosing the same weekly water.
\nNothing changing, just
\noxygenating, opening, gating,
\npassing the time<\/p>\n
quantifying your existence with
\nrueful flakes left floating:
\nsqueezing the most out of
\nthe care, the upkeep, the<\/p>\n
uglier you make the tank, the greater your
\nvalue, because to be worked for makes you
\nworth more, right?\u2014you\u2019re not gold but
\nxanthic, close enough.<\/p>\n
You don\u2019t forget, you\u2019re not forgotten.
\nZoom out enough and the world is mostly water anyways.
\n <\/p>\n
Hannah Lemons studies geology and English at the University of Alabama and has recently begun making peace with the ghosts of childhood pets.<\/p>\n