177. the bed of state bats o’larry

a sea bream in portions is gooey (they smoked ‘em),
the long trip had dissolved all of the bones in,
so when came the order from piercing they poured out,
and covered the mountain in alien odor

awful and slimy, sickening, shiny,
slick that enveloped an area sized of,
i don’t know, texas, the ladies did well to
get back to the hut, but, oh god, the smell of

rotting fish, black, ronald was happy,
a civilization had spawned on his lap, these 
fishes for you, if you think they’re not smart
released a few billion eggs on the farm

it’s chaos, confusion, the women try brewing
the gunk up in bottles to sell it for stews, and
worcestershire paste, they try to keep pace,
but everywhere eggs are starting to break

great golden bream are spilling the streets,
squelching all over (how do they breathe?) — 
leonine lets the worst of it, then
screams from the mountain, release all the nets!

it’s not all for nothing david niven, among them,
the long journey back, incessantly warning,
it’s not just the bream on earth you must clean,
it’s also the aliens from axe order jeem

jim — david niven had developed a lisp from
dangling atop of the pole where they’d fixed him — 
the issue, i’m saying, the point i am making,
they’d time to prepare and accumulated

from rome and from greece, from africa, east
germany, i don’t know, everywhere these
nets that they stowed in purple bags, coats,
underneath their long dresses (in pants, if they wore)

and placed them about the town all unwound
in places up high to pigs they were bound,
and at the right moment (when leonine told them),
the pigs would project and the sea bream enfolded

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