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don't forget to thank her last dying fish


                           don't forget to thank her last dying fish
                           out of water breathing rasps
                           all afternoon

                           embroidered by the private dream state
                           ejaculation
                           of a tempered spirit's golden candlelight haze

                           diligently expressed from that third lisping
                           African violet eye pursing the center
                           of a morphine clammy forehead

                           then sheepishly beamed to the flocks of moths 
                           pressed against the apartment windows
 
                           their cheerful wings flickering
                           like dozens of tiny Pleiades
                           gathered to transport her