Koi

There is a thin copper pole
from which our plentiful rain
drips off the gutters of my parents' roof
into a barrel sliced in half.
My father got this idea somewhere,
probably a gardening magazine or Bob Villa,
to fill this barrel
like a makeshift fishbowl
with two or three twenty-five dollar Koi.
Every few weeks, these Koi,
which should theoretically grow
in proportion with their surroundings,
instead grow far too large
and eventually float stomach up
to the top of the water.
When this happens,
A riot erupts in my confounded father's mouth,
"Dagnabit!"
"Fuckin A!"
before he goes back to the pet store,
forks over at least fifty dollars for more Koi
and once more plays the role
of their confused and bumbling God.