He's slight and matte as any old fish—
no swirly fins, no flashy scales—
but he's got tricks. He'll vanish goldfish
and sever tetras tip-from-tail.
His teeth would rouse a fanfare somewhere
(Woods Hole, perhaps?) but at the funfair
he floats unmarked, a minor prize
for ping-pong ball, his garnet eyes
offset by eighty-seven eyeteeth.
Here comes Gretchen, six, to press
her luck. She chucks the ball, and yes!
It splashes down on this awry-teeth
demon in a plastic dome.
She grabs the bag and brings him home.
no swirly fins, no flashy scales—
but he's got tricks. He'll vanish goldfish
and sever tetras tip-from-tail.
His teeth would rouse a fanfare somewhere
(Woods Hole, perhaps?) but at the funfair
he floats unmarked, a minor prize
for ping-pong ball, his garnet eyes
offset by eighty-seven eyeteeth.
Here comes Gretchen, six, to press
her luck. She chucks the ball, and yes!
It splashes down on this awry-teeth
demon in a plastic dome.
She grabs the bag and brings him home.
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