Head of Glass

My head must be made of glass.

My thoughts are busy fish,

swimming on display

for wide-eyed spectators to gawk at.

A tiny aquarium filled with stolen fish

from some deep waters,

and placed in an aquarium.

I knew from the beginning I was exposed

and felt my fish had no choice

but to swim in endless circles

and let others watch my show.

Though, now I have learned

that I am skilled at hiding.

There are plastic plants and cement rocks

for my fish to hide behind and beneath.

Dark corners where they can blend in.

When they hide the water stills

and algae is allowed to grow.

for years I have fought to keep still.

But something has been tapping on my glass.

Tapping hard and causing waves

that scatter my pebbles

and disturb my facade.

Everything crashes against the glass.

Still, my fish refuse to come out.

Spectators say the fish are just anxious

Perhaps if they were given food

or little white pills in an orange bottle

They would come out.

What will I do when the bottle is empty

or when the fish food runs out?

“Calm down little fishys!” a kid shouts

His hot breath fogs my glass

And his greasy fingers smudge my view

How can I calm down

When you continue to tap my tank

to disturb my fish

to press your snotty nose against my glass.

Leave us alone.

Like my fish, I feel confined

to a head too small

and bones too tight.

I’m claustrophobic in my own skin.

I wish to return my fish to sea,

so they can explore beyond

this feigned environment

I want them away from the eyes

That gawk and wait.

“Come out fishies, come out.”

No, they will hide until the aquarium closes.

They will wait until the lights go out.

And when they do, my fish swim free.

They swim wildly and busily

And imagine that they are below the waves

exploring the wonders of the deep.

I won’t let the eyes watch me die here

Or see my little fish floating limp and lifeless

I will somehow shatter my head of glass

And watch as the water floods out of my mind

And my fish swim far and away