Glass Poetry Press

Volume Five Issue Two

Amy Schulz

Listening to Koi

The water writhes, twisting through a rock-lined channel, and empties into the basin of the pond. A jar of pellets sits on the porch railing. The koi sound out, bodies sloshing, silvering scales slapping, they jaw the air — The phone does not disguise the broken timbre of my mother's voice. Her pain creeps, then roars around me — familiar, and against that noise a jet flies overhead, squirrels slide across the deck, the slicing call of blue jays, but I am listening to the water running into the koi pond, to the walloping calico fish determined to get the pellets, the sound amplified by the gas- filled swim bladder connected to their inner ear.