Caroline Misner - Poor Fish

Poor fish
who never made it to August
in 1963. It was
a good year, that year
when Zimmerman freewheeled
his way across Europe
and mentors died;
when a crack of gunshot
exposed a festering wound.
A girl named for a star
clipped the hair of four prophets
and set them loose to pour
their waters on a parched world.
It was the era of my grandfathers
who tamped their footprints
on the sky, while I
lay unbothered by it all,
curled like a shrimp
with my thumb in my mouth.
Sometimes I feel I missed out.
Poor fish.

Caroline Misner

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poor-fish/