We had goldfish and they
Circled around and around
In the bowl on the table
Near the heavy drapes
Covering the picture window and
My mother, always smiling, wanting us all
To be happy, told me, "be happy Henry!"
And she was right: it's better
To be happy if you can
But my father continued to beat her
And me several times a week while
Raging inside his 6-foot-two frame
Because he couldn't
Understand what was attacking him from within
My mother, poor fish wanting to be happy
Beaten two or three times a
Week, telling me to be happy: "Henry, smile!
Why don't you ever smile?"

And then she would smile, to show me how
And it was the saddest smile I ever saw

One day the goldfish died, all five of them
They floated on the water, on their sides
Their eyes still open
And when my father got home he
Threw them to the cat
There on the kitchen floor and
We watched as my mother smiled