The Poetry Society

looking at passing slates

of car windows, and

seeing washed-out

reflections of sardine people,

i remember gills, or

being a fish looking out

and seeing in petrol stains

like daylight dreams;

but do you see out

in rainbows?

oh, people of wheeled

fish-tanks,

does the bleach of your glass walls

stain your vision

in stead?