Reflect Self, Koi Pond
Drain the pond, son. Aged teen clanks stick against steel fence,
forcing ice to abandon important posts. Winter locusts
invade, limbo the white lotuses, a meandering descent.
Fresh fish hatched and frantic. Some plop and ripple surface.
Some grapple tree limbs, slip on unforgiving bark.
Garden anything but botanical. Roots gain a bit of confidence.
Birdbath floats in filth. Lilly pads, green pac-men hunted
but never caught by fishghosts. Oar will stir aquatic
ecosystems. Every fish has its price tag, son. Dreamsicle
striped, butterscotch tail, cookie-cream polka dots splattered
on scales like a cheap Pollock. Uh, not like, is. Some days,
koi pond plays shy because plants center attention on its
bare waters. Anacharis rids algae like an antichrist
does salvation. Arrowheads, pot protrusions, sharp leaves.
The rubber tube urinates down a slanting slab of stone—
omnipresent pressure, skull of aluminum foil, magnet tiara.
Stagnant pageant, this waiting for spring. If any questions,
call O’Hara though he’s more clued-up when it comes
to concrete ivies and glass daffodils. Set up a fine lunch
spread, his bread and butter, meaning he’ll know what
to do with it, a crossword puzzle formed with meter in mind.
Head-sized rocks keep watch of the waterfall. Freeze frame,
see-through glue. Chinese characters and their unique
personalities flap when the wind is just right. Nice enough
to swirl a tongue, salivate a finger, check wind speed
and direction. Cool breeze sputter zephyrs. Look forward
to spring, my boy.
Shine bright, water garden, burn sun.