Gail Goepfert, “Two open mouths”

pierce the murk
of green lake
beneath the bridge.

Common carp.
Their bodies, thick
as a big man’s calf and long.
Swinging round on patrol,
their antenna-like barbel sprout
like lone whiskers cheekside.

Dark pupils glare from beds
of gold iris, inverted crescent-moon
mouths begging.

I’m carped.  Circling.
Mouth open and wanting.
on the thin lip
of the world.

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