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Goldfish Memories


Floating Goldfish

So I don’t remember

what I ate or when, but

I remember words:

food water air


You in your wood-bowl,

them looking at us

eyes red as gills.


They say now you’ve gone to the sea. Why

there? Why somewhere

I can’t reach you?

The salt would burn

the soul out of me.


Maybe next

I will ask to be a shark.

Not for teeth bite strong but

smell swim speed,

so I can find you

again. I’ll remember.

May Chong is a bi Malaysian poet/speculative writer with past work in The Willowherb Review, Channel Magazine and Fantasy Magazine. Away from the keyboard, she enjoys birdwatching, great stories and terrible, terrible puns.

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