An Anchovy

I stare through the curved, distorted glass

at the shark shadows thrown against 
the back wall of the tank, cast by 
dozens of the beasts swimming past

clusters of fake sunbeams that cut through the water 
from above, dancing like disco lights.

The shadows leap and flicker as if caught in a strobe.

The striped skin of the sharks glows

with an unearthly aura as they slip through the water

like ghosts floating soundlessly through a nightmare.

In the next tank over are the anchovies,

separated from their predatory brethren

by a single thin wall.

These pop-eyed critters gulp constantly,

each mouth’s wide wedge opening

and closing as they swim,

the foil-coated hinges of their jaws crinkling.

Each fish is little more than a mouth

dragging a blade behind it.

These silvery pizza-toppings terrify me

more than the sharks, which are at least elegant

rather than cartoonish.

The sharks may have to keep swimming to live,

but at least they take a break from eating, unlike these creatures

who are incessantly consuming. Do they even sleep?

It seems insane to be so ceaselessly tenacious.

Perhaps they remind me too much of myself;
my eyes bugging open, searching wildly

for what, any kind of usable material, desperate to keep

on creating. I may be more aware than these little creatures,

but am I any less voracious?

I wear myself out with my constant pushing.

I need to learn to relax, need to find a new role model.

I should be more like the jellyfish,

gently floating along like pulsing organs,

like parts of some larger, more complex creature

rather than things complete in themselves.

Certainly not things that have survived

for millions of years despite being not much more

than translucent bags of cells,

trailing threads and filled perhaps

with a few light-bulb filaments, or else oozing

huge ruffled clouds of tissue

that grow and contract, sucked into and squeezed from

that soft, pulsing bell.

Clappers of smoke, held together by almost nothing:

a splash of pigment, a membrane so thin

its shape can only be retained

by the water it is suspended in.

I could watch them for hours.

The sharks fill me with awe, the anchovies make me anxious,

but these drifting balloons, these lava lamp blobs

make me feel like I am floating with them,

make me lose my own form,

force be to become defined by the void 
around my self.