MEN-OF-WAR.

There were Moon Jelly fish
At the exhibition,
On a corner,
In a huge tube of water,

And as we rounded it
We were grounded
By its stature,
And the zigzag tracks of
The translucent bags
Inside

Swimming to
Within
A tentacle’s length
Of each other,
But always managing
To avoid contact,

And in a mischievous mood
I stared,
Waiting for a careless
Leg
To brush too close
To another
And uncover
The true nature
Of these creatures;

Waiting to see one guy
Retaliate,
And the whole thing ignite,
Like a Western bar-fight.