the dentists’ waiting room is
fitted with earthen clay tiles,
two coats of wax,  shiny
and slippery, protected with
twisted ragstock throw rugs.

in the middle, next to
the plastic rubber plants
stands an aquarium
filled two thirds up with
murky water.

an old rusty pump shoots
sprinkles of liquid starved
by oxygen debt, dying
globules joining  mother
pool, stagnant, deep.

glass walls covered with
little snails barely mobile,
hitched a ride with
yellow plants, gasping
for air, decaying.

the bottom is slimy, its
polished pebbles now
colorless, pasty with a
carpet of algae and
piscine ****.
  
a little boy approaches
and taps the glass,
unaware of underwater
waves.  no matter.
plecostomus feeds.

still alive, yet almost inert
are a large silver dollar,
two kissing gouramis,
some lemon tetras and
one lonely bloated carp.


Lewis Bosworth, 2006