- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Fish
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On the plate it seems
to have lost its shine
the metallic gleam
dulled
by the poison air
surrounding us
as we drag it
toward the surface
the unseen line
an invisible garrote
that precious thing
so clean and whole
rich red gills now
the color of brick
its once bright eye
sunken
faded to dull gray
staring up at me
or at least it would be
if you hadn't cut
the head off to hide
the rot that eats away
like the false sounds
floating from your
plasticine mouth
as you break the flesh
apart with your hands
and tell me to
take another bite.
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