12 Days of Christmas Offering No. 12
Art thou not moved, fish? That nonchalant smile.
Doth thy heavy-lidded, liquid gaze show
Nought but indifference when others, so riled,
Do brandish their convictions? Simply; no.
Thou art old, thou hath seen. Each spoke hath spun,
Each sun spoken through thy tongue. His spirit
Nods and yawns; every end has been begun.
Neptune slumbers lest true dangers stir it.
Compelling, then, how thy pity peaks for
Weak and sickly folk; chastised and crippled.
Act -Plunge, thy person of Thespian core,
Within – them, not betrayed or belittled.
Thou art Pisces; old soul, the lights do spill,
Calling from the river’s womb atop the hill.