Poems by Thomas Young
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The Aquarium
by Thomas Young
Thom lives alongside millions of others on the bluffs and plains at the confluence of the Missouri and Kaw rivers.
Interesting, / to watch them pumping / Attendant says / they’re upside down with algae / & things to see the sun he said it is photosynthetic / & / they live for three years / Not moving / Very sad amidst the detritus / Almost statue says I’m tired or dying Encage / & all / the prettiness of the seashells / Spells / the word out as “artifice” / I’m okay with the turtle being here / he says But / I’m more of the mind to say: / this is when the turtle says / this is hell / &c &c &c / I’m the devil / That’s at least what he told me then / & I’ve not gotten over much / Tiny hammerheads come in homing / Warm shallows & I took a shower / & made the bed this morning it is clear until a gunshot / & I think I heard that too / Much of music as memory, as dementia / Enters / In treatment: stingrays smiling / at me with gills / Look at the coral Somehow unbleached ( artificial ) / I am artificed all over / Rimmed & said I wonder / that we could not after / you showered / In a shower, / in a wash of water pressed in glass / She is cleaning / & I wonder how big this is / Or why an aquarium must need New Age music / The cool thing he says is that they are predators / Takes about a day / for them to finish eating / Soft shell? / No, it’s hard, but there are other culinary / terms for me to give you / Maybe it’s not a detail / maybe it’s the whole scene.
© Thomas Young