standing on the dais

standing on the dais

before the dulled assemblage

of auburn fish, bellies distended

thin gills pressed and lifted

from the steam-ed cement

as twilight encompasses the ampitheatre

imagine: a hundred, two hundred

thousands

of gulping creatures upon the cracked

and gritty ground

their dying eyes before all

cut by coarse rock

estranged bits of man-made splendor

faded like cataracts

the breath

less whisper

stops.