I sit across from the butcher shop where my fish hang from their clotheslines.

For another moment the fish hung in the water, watching.

As if in contempt and triumph, the fish hung suspended for an instant, challenging mortal vengeance.

The great fish hung there in the depth of water where he was like a huge dark purple bird and then settled slowly.

I wonder if the fish hang close under them and play around them when they are submerged in weather like this.

A day later, the young fish will hang on the plants, and/or the sides of the tank if the breeding takes place in an aquarium.

The fish to be cleaned hang motionless in the water, gill covers open and fins spread, waiting for attention.

The fish hung motionless in its small lake.

IX He lay there, and the fish hung just beyond.

The fish hung suspended in the water like paintings on a wall.