Snakehead
When the water is wrong
You just pick up your things
Suck in a last breath for the old times
And walk all the way to a new pond
So clean you can smell it.
When everything is all right
You gobble your neighbors up
One at a time like a thresher in frenzy
With a gorged wide-mouth grin
Blimping up until you’re as long
As a line of five dollar bills.
When we get around to it
Your passports will be revoked:
Pisces non grata a la America.
We’ll have to go back to Asia
To eat you years from now.
On the news they say you’re
A tasty reincarnated sinner
And I wonder how karma works out
Like that, making a funny fish face
For my visiting niece over a bowl of sour soup.
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