the fish
I take out of the sea
is large.
I need both hands
to hold him.
he's green and silver
in the sun.
flecks of orange.
I pull the steel hook
from his stiff mouth,
trying not tear at his
skin. I see the fear
in his eyes.
the cold panic
of is body, writhing
in pain.
he wants to swim.
he can't breathe in
this air.
who doesn't know
that feeling at some
point in their lives,
wanting to be thrown
back in.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment