Fish - Erica Miriam Fabri
The man you love is cooking fish in the kitchenwhile you are polishing his shiniest shoes.
Black shoe polish has gotten inside every oneof the lines in your hands.
When he calls you to the table for dinner,you see that he has crafted the fishinto a sculpture of you. There’s a ripe wedge of tomato for your mouthand you are dressed in a basil-leaf skirt. I can’t do it, you say.Do what? he asks.Eat myself. He kisses the front and back of your handsagain and again, until his lips are black and shiny. I’ll help you, he whispers.We’ll feed each other.Let’s start slow,with your toes.
* Erica Miriam Fabri is a poet and performer, and the author of Dialect of a Skirt. She lives in New York. This poem was highly-commended in the Gregory O’Donoghue International Poetry Competition which is again accepting entries. www.munsterlit.ie for details.
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