MORPHINE

Terence Winch

I killed the talking fish,
so slick and black.
He came to me in my room
and gave me great advice
and told some excellent jokes.
I pulled his tongue out
with a twist to clean
it for him. It was
a service to him.
But when I went
to put it back in,
the rest of him was
nowhere to be found.
I became frantic, full
of despair. But my men
all just laughed:
“He was only a fish.”