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Poetry of Issue #8        Page 26

No more nets

As grim-jawed Senators
ambled along the Potomac
chatting about how to transfer tax-cash
and pollution permits
to their favored few,

grimy water splattered their jaws
as giant messages splashed
from the dirty depths.
Three thousand sharks
and countless refugees
from tuna cans
swam past, their fins bearing electric eels aloft
whose neon colors flashed
“No more warming,”
“No more fertilizers or bull shit
from farms or politicians’ mouths,”
and “No more nets
to swell your net worth.”

The politicians’ jaws gaped wide as sharks’
before they recalled their higher values,
and called up some gunboats
to shoot fresh fish for lunch.

Sam Friedman