Sleeping With the Fishies: Episode Two

by Phoebe Hancox

I woke having forgotten the events of the past 24 hours.
‘You awake yet?’
My eyes shot open, and panic set in.
It had not been a dream, but rather an ongoing nightmare

Though it occurred to me
That I did not know the names
Of my found fish friends.
So I inquired, ‘What shall I call you other than sardines?’

And in order from left to right they replied:
‘Bean.’
‘Caffeine.’
‘Chow Mein.’

I was not sure what I had expected,
Names more aligned with the aquatic world,
Like Finn, Molly and Ray,
Perhaps even a Sir Blub-Blub.

I brought them out to my kitchen
To watch me make my morning oatmeal,
Cautious to hide other tinned fish
I had tucked into my pantry.

Was it wrong for me to have tinned fish,
When I knew they could be sentient?
Should I open each tin and see if they were all alive?
Was I wrong for having them all in my cupboard? Was I evil for still eating –

‘What's an apple?’ asked Bean,
Interrupting my existential crisis.
I realised the sardines' eyes were cast upon the fruit bowl,
Something they probably hadn’t seen before.

I explained the basics of agriculture,
And how produce appeared in our kitchens,
But the fish looked dazed and uninterested,
And perhaps regretful of Bean's inquisitive nature.

Maybe had I been a parent,
Or grown up with younger siblings,
I would have been better equipped to care for
Sentient, childish, annoying, endearing … fish.

But alas I was not.
At twenty-three years of age,
I was more familiar with sinking beers
Than child-fish rearing.