I read today that our fish are drunk;
they cannot swim in a straight line.
Instead, they flounder, highly sedated
in the milky depths of the abyss.
They are drowning in animal faeces,
swimming in a cesspool, waiting
for the hunger to subside. Aimless drifters,
we watch them swim on in miserable guts.
Suck on water, nibble the bone.
Careful not to swallow the dirty mist.
Once golden; a luminous skin
now grey and almost transparent.
Our botanical garden is dying,
beneath the velvet gauze.
Algae is tripping on acid
and won’t be back for some time.
Picture No. 10022419. © Mary Evans Picture Library
Natalie Baker is a London-based freelance writer and editor. Her poems and fiction have been featured in Synaesthesia Magazine and The Bacon Review, and she regularly contributes to the Bloody Good Period blog. Read her personal blog here and find her on Twitter @NataBake