The Sink

Their eyes look blank

as buttons.
They've given up.

Except one
whose eye seems

hooked on me.

Dad carves a knife,

pours oil in the pan.

Poor little beings

pumping hard 

to catch a breath.

I'm pushed aside.

I hear a whack.

Flesh deep frying
but poor little Button

is pounding harder

against the sink.

Eat! dad orders.

But I just can't,
not with Buttons
pounding ever harder

against the sink.