We came home and saw the wet
twitch and skitter pattern on tile
leading to the small and now still
body of the betta fish plastered
to the leg of a chair, and put two
and two together. It must have
been the neighbor's dog, given
to sharp barking without warning,
beneath our open kitchen window.
It must have jumped out of the high-
sided pyrex dish we were using as
a makeshift fish bowl. We were going
to get a proper one. soon. But now
this deep blue strip of our sorrow,
the size of a postage stamp— what
remained after it leaped into the air.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
