we called him hedus
short for
he doesn’t have a name
lyd’s goldfish didn’t live long with us
and that time was not memorable
because between all our misadventures
between me and lyd and jason and the rest
poor little hedus
was locked away in
his little tank in the corner of lyd’s room
he died just before christmas and
as we all prepared to go home to our families
we found the time for a quick funeral
for hedus
hedus didn’t burn at first
so we wrapped him in a
paper towel
soaked in rum
we learned that night how much jason loves fire
and how little we thought of that rum
it didn’t taste good
but it burned good
and scorched the imprint of a fish on the pavement outside our
door
we buried hedus in the mulch
i would like to say we found a single flower
growing where he lay the next spring
but we didn’t
and they re-mulched his grave long ago
and washed the ash marks off the pavement too.
About the Creator
Steven Christopher McKnight
Disillusioned twenty-something, future ghost of a drowned hobo, cryptid prowling abandoned operahouses, theatre scholar, prosewright, playwright, aiming to never work again.
Venmo me @MickTheKnight
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Comments (6)
Wooohooooo congratulations on your honourable mention! 🎉💖🎊🎉💖🎊
Goldfish still like a dog pets. We give it care and its part of the family. Interesting pet funeral, thanks for sharing.
The way hedus’ brief life mirrors impermanence and the fleeting nature of memory is poignant. The poem invites reflection on how small moments can leave lasting imprints, even if physically erased.
The Poetry Dimension has entrapped you, I think. This felt heavy, despite its surface presentation. And, I will say, I saw some pretty rad line breaks too. ;) You seem to easily use the "punchline" structure that poetry, especially free verse, often demands, finding the music in a mundane, childhood act, and rendering it as a ritual. Beautiful work, Steven.
Love this. Despite his insignificant existence you still wanted to pay tribute to him and the things you learnt as part of it were priceless too. Bad rum is no fun but good for burning. Well done
This was such an entertaining story. I loved how a seemingly meaningless life passed without leaving any physical trace, and yet his death was worthy of being immortalized in this poem and your memory. Nicely written.