I own piranhas. Keep them in two tanks
with thickened glass. Grow Amazonian plants
to keep air in their water. All their wants
are catered for, though I expect no thanks.
Ungrateful killer wretches with sharp bites.
I feed them bits of mince with leather gloves
to keep my fingers whole. Their brutal loves
are fun to watch. Sometimes on drunken nights
we shine bright lights and watch them writhe and spawn
take little nips out of each other’s tails.
And all in silence. You’d expect some wails
but no, not even when small ones are born
and eat their mother’s guts. A thing I own
that might, like love, jump, chew me to the bone.