Tanka 237, 238, 239

Tanka 237
Spilling from the net
those silver slippery fish
slide across the deck
a shining heap of last moments
in air that hurts. Eyes go blank.

Tanka 238
loud fussy trumpet
argues from its brassy heart –
fickle xylophone
tap-dance flirts just out of reach –
They are never quite in tune.

Tanka 239
the textbook talks loud
the brain squirms between the ears
the sentences play
hide-and-seek through the neurons –
thoughts dry up. Oh my head aches.

2 thoughts on “Tanka 237, 238, 239

  1. I enjoyed those final two poems in terms of what they communicated about symbiotic relationships in a state of dysfunction. I am sure that is something we can all identify with. The first poem made me think of my Great-Gran who worked as a fish quine (gutting fish) in Aberdeen.

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