the fish

the fish, fattened
with cold, white bones
intact,
resting with flat eyes
gelled
open on the shaved
ice, behind the slant
of glass, marked for
sale by pound, not
beauty.
the glimmer
of rainbow scales,
still awash in
salt, the sway of
a green distant sea,
their lives now
measured against
their will, to what
we want, what we need.