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

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