THE LAST FISH
I'll never forget what he said to me
the night I told him the time had come
the red coals glowing in the trees
were all that was left to us of the sun
we'd seen the torment coming
the anguish under wet-lidded eyes
which spoke so eloquently of a past
too far away and knew misfortune was
the only thing that had a future here
the time had come and all he could
manage to say about the trees
and those tortured eyes was that
you can't dig a grave with a teaspoon
the last fish cut scarcely a silhouette
as it rose against the branches
desperately seeking the empty sky
Eric Basso, USA, March 22, 2012
Photomontages and collage by Guido Vermeulen
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