Sunday, April 5, 2009

Poem of the Day - April 5th

Goldfish Are Ordinary
by Stacie Cassarino
At the pet store on Court Street,
I search for the perfect fish.
The black moor, the blue damsel,
cichlids and neons. Something
to distract your sadness, something
you don't need to love you back.
Maybe a goldfish, the flaring tail,
orange, red-capped, pearled body,
the darting translucence? Goldfish
are ordinary, the boy selling fish
says to me. I turn back to the tank,
all of this grace and brilliance,
such simplicity the self could fail
to see. In three months I'll leave
this city. Today, a chill in the air,
you're reading Beckett fifty blocks
away, I'm looking at the orphaned
bodies of fish, undulant and gold fervor.
Do you want to see aggression?
the boy asks, holding a purple beta fish
to the light while dropping handfuls
of minnows into the bowl. He says,
I know you're a girl and all
but sometimes it's good to see.
Outside, in the rain, we love
with our hands tied,
while things tear away at us.


Stephanie said...

Sigh. I'll admit it: poetry makes me feel dense. I admire and enjoy the imagery of poems, but always feel like I am missing their deeper meanings.

Is this one about a dying relationship? Is the author wishing for a simple but beautiful relationship (like goldfish) when she has one that is being torn apart (like the minnows)? Help!

Lula O said...

Poetry makes most people feel dense! I often have to reread them many times to get anything at all. Each time you read them, a deeper hole is dug. It's different for everybody.

I agree about this one, while watching the goldfish, you can tell this girl is thinking about someone else. Someone reading Beckett fifty streets away. Someone who doesn't care anymore.
By hands tied, does she feel helpless? Does she long for the simple life, where you feel no pain if you're not loved back?

Hmm, can't tell if I'm depressed now or not...