Tagged: fish

mama’s gift

mama’s gift
that keeps
on giving –
a box of
japanese dried
anchovies – for
every dish,
every occasion,
ready to be
crunched,
not counted
.
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the end of august,

the end of august,
when hopes and dreams bob upon
the final waves of

summer’s mirage, ready to reel
in the big one, any day now
.
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y

at the fish market,

at the fish market,
mom knows the difference between
this and that fish, not

just red fish, blue fish, round fish, long
fish – it pays to shop with a chef
.
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y

a fish to stay, a

in the absence of

in the absence of
eyelids, it is possible
that fish still
dream
– their
brains sleeping in
shifts, shuttling
the fabric of
storied images
back and forth,
back and forth
.
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y

mom cooks fish the way

mom cooks fish the way
her mama cooks fish
the way her grandma
cooked fish the way i
could never seem to cook
fish, no matter how
closely i watched,
how diligently
i took notes
.
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y

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: fish

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it’s almost always

it’s almost always
a surprise, coming upon
fishermen, counting,

sorting, measuring, debating
over, waiting for their catch
.
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y

new memories catch

there’s another version

there’s another version
of us, a catch and
release, one in which
we are both
experts, armed
only with barbless
hooks. maybe we pose
for a photograph,
but we leave
no other
remnants –
no stress nor injuries –
with eighty-seven percent
chance of survival
.
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y

outside of time, we