Tagged: fish

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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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

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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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

every minute

every minute
shimmers into and out of
place, like separate

but attached fish scales, over-
lapping, covering the day
.
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y