Three men hung the corpse of a shark
In a tree for its enlightenment.
They hefted rifles,
Pierced its side with bullets.

“We’ve taken him a long way from the sea,” they said.

The dead shark swam in the tree,
Its rancid blood raining down like manna,
Its eyes bulging, thick with burgeoning wisdom.

It lay in that tree for nine days and nine nights,
Soaking up knowledge in its mute way.
By the end of the ninth night,
It had supped fully on enlightenment.
A moth appeared before the shark
And landed on its shiny nose.
This tipped something already on the brink,
Freeing the shark from its ****** form in a sag, a slow burst,
And a mass of vermin churned forth.