they’ve invented a new fish, a minnow, a silver-finned slippy thing, 
and I’m supposed to love it to feed it, to care.

far off, an animal screams; I look up, distracted,
they call me back.

care for your fish, your minnow, they say.
that’s no minnow.

the fish explodes, stinking, its skeleton shatters, tiny spines
fly out cactus-like, stick in my cheek, pinpricks, tiny, tiny,
a clockwork mouse scuttles away to hide,  
every second a hundred-billion neutrinos pass through my heart.