For some years, I loved and lost beta fish, twelve tanks of them, whom I tended and watched, knowing they live not more than five years in captivity. I thereby helped myself to accept my age. As I used the fish to try and get used to departure, waning and weakness, hanging on, and finally the sudden stiffness and pallor that signals life has ended, I felt a connection and gratitude to these small and almost always beautiful beings. I wrote about them, and the writing became more and more testimonial. One of my cousins could not imagine how I could have a pet I could not even touch. But these pets were different: my fish are about going on in straitened circumstances. These poems are a record of my wonder and my thanks and admiration.