Salt,like a womblike half a woundcakedaround a guttedscaled salmon. And salmon,the red half of living,caked in salt,downriver,down oven, before the claw,before the causeway,before the rare preferredflake. And flake,crystalline,salt and hard water,fleshtender as forksmisguidanceand salvation. Image: Saskia T. on Unsplash

Small Fishes

I saw a picture of you today,that crow's foot smile, your eyesblue behind wisps of bang,arm around his shoulder,same old still,and I felt nothing. But then again,I was small fish to fry,and you laughed and said no,you are a whale and went awaythat Tiananmen spring. And there was fear in your voice,strung out, evacuated, long... Continue Reading →

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