My Roommate Had Five Fish and I Ate Him

my roommate has two fish.
my roommate used to have five and
because he did not take care of the tank,
three of the fish died.
first, one fish died, and
four fish ate one fish,
and then one fish died,
and then three fish ate one fish,
and then one fish died,
and then two fish ate one fish,
and i said he should kill the last two,
and he said he will give them to his friend
who has a thriving fish tank.
then he looked at me as if to say,
“you are very cruel for saying that.”

i, however, think killing the fish is kind.
the last two fish share a secret ,
and that secret is that they ate three
of their dead friends, and one fish
will inevitably break down and tell
the other fish in the new tank,
who will then savagely kill and eat them
in a preemptive act of tribal protection,
and the two fish that ate three
will die alone;
one will die Judas,
and the other will die Jesus,
and instead of being the son of God
and his legendary, self-serving friend,
they will die preemptively cannibalized
cannibal-fish — invasive threats
to an otherwise welcoming
aquatic paradise.

my roommate and i
laughed about this together,
and then i ate him.

this poem is now
the shape of a rotten
half-eaten fish.

half-eaten fish.

wpid-CAM00159_1.jpg

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