Fishmonger

Love has completely filleted me.

I am lying in the market like a
Gutted grouper,

Speechless.
All yearning and resilience absolutely silent.
But I am still unmarked.

All is now the same to me.

The sweep of a man’s hands

As he lifts me near,
Drawing my scent into his nostrils.
He thinks about taking me home.

The brush of a blowfly

Sipping my vital fluids
Through a peculiar fashioned flute.

The sun resting its radiant gaze upon my eyes.

Laughter and the splash from a passing taxi.

All send astounding undercurrents into my world.

Love has split me wide open.

Toss me on a scale.
Wrap me in newsprint.
Bring me home.

~Camilla Basham