die a fish

my fish of one year six months and twenty five days
died
and widowed is its homosexual partner
with whom it enjoyed a well forested pond
for the same amount of happy time
now seeming like an eternity ago

the details of its death
are irrelevant but for the purpose of an eulogy
it died inside the royal retreat of
a huge bursa spinosa seashell
where the two of them used to cuddle
lips on lips and fin on fin
when they were not chasing each other
around the rocks and pebbles
around the roots of a japanese iris
or in and out of a pennywort jungle

Laying at the root of a coral succulent
under a fresh bed of garden mix
now my nobel fish is there to rest
at its most rightful place
and to grow into a potted coral
overlooking the pond
where its widower reminisces in solitude