Backyard Pond, Brocaded Carp
by
Lisa J. Cihlar
My daily yard and garden tour. I carry fish pellets to the pond. My largest gold and black koi has died. The local raccoon got others by feeling
behind rocks and in crevasses with paws that look like tiny desiccated human
hands. He didn’t get this one. I know because there are no half-eaten fish
parts scattered in the grass. This fish
just died, old age, some fish disease that I can’t fathom.
It floats on the surface now, half-sheltered
by a water-lily leaf, almost mistaken for a flower-bud. I scoop the body up in my hand, feel the roll
of maggots under scales. I recoil, send
it back into the water and the dozen living carp of many colors come to feast
on the larvae, a free-floating meteor shower.
Grant Park Jazz Gala
dragonflies swirl up,
over
improvisation
~ first published in Frogpond Journal
