The goldfish died. Eric bought an eel
which mulls by day or haunts the galleon-wreck
and slips by night in scaleless dishabille
to trace lemniscates over a gravel bed.
He's called the eel Kitty - I know, it's weird!
Her eyes are small, and fogged like crystal balls
or cloudy fish-eggs. Maybe she's a seer?
Her pupils twitch whenever I caterwaul.
I'd like to dip my paw; only to touch
her dimpled skin, with sheathed claws. I ate
the goldfish. Eric's grinning, thinking - Just
you try Pagan, but I'm not dumb; the bait's
athrum. She's friendly though, platonic-eyed.
I'd like to prick her eye to see inside.
Diane Hine
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/electric-eel-sonnet/
