my fish died yesterday.
With him, he took my heart and flushed it down the toilet.
Who knew fish could break hearts.
his name was Piano.
His scales reminded me of a time I used to sit at the worn    bench
playing notes like I knew what I was doing,
The ivory keys slippery
underneath my leathery fingers.
My elephant noises kept them up all night.
My fish died yesterday,
and with him, he took my power.
who knew a fish could take so much.
My mother took him in her small hands.
He was limp like a bird, frail like bones,
and I didn't dare look at him.
She marched out the front door into the shocking air
and stormed the blackberry bushes to dust
kicked over the tin cans I had called a fort,
and bloodied her ankles by the burrs laying angrily on the  cold ground
all while holding Piano in her tiny hands.
my fish died yesterday,
and with him, he snatched my confidence.
I stumbled up the stone steps the next day,
my eyes puffy.
I didn't want them to see me in this pitiful state.
my checkered skirt pooled up underneath me like a sea      anemone,
as the ocean streamed down my face.
The bell rang, but I stayed, floating in my sail boat.
I remembered a song about a bird.
I sang it to Piano.
My fish died yesterday,
and with him, he took my creativity.
Who knew fish needed so much.
my paintbrush looked like my hair
a rats nest of my failures
collecting dust in my dreams and hopes jar.
My orange colored pencil was snapped in two
and it gave me slivers every time I picked it up
because the past was too delicate to hold.
I got a new fish today.
And with him,
My fingers did a tap dance on my piano
and I colored him a picture of my love.
My sailboat caught a gust of wind,
and I built a new fort.
I got a new fish today.
And with it, I was a child again.