What a Fish Dreams

I wake up, swollen like a half-drowned thing,

not quite a bloated corpse.

Lips fish-plump and waterlogged,

as if I’ve been kissed too much,

never enough.

Head sore in spots,

battered around the fisherman’s boat.

Catch of the day,

treated brutally, carelessly.

Have I been swimming in your black waters

again, all night?

2017

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *