It’s alright now.
That you reached down deep and pulled my heart out, by its tentacles;
washed the blood off,
scraped my shining blue-green scales into the chum bucket,
sawed my triangle head off,
popped my telescopic eye out
what a prize I was alive,
you did take a picture with me before I was in a million pieces, so you can show what a meal I would be, how willing to bite that hook I was, you brag, later, to all your
two hundred friends who laugh at me.
They didn’t know me.
Long after you had drug me up by the gills from the bottom of the sea
I gasped for breath on the deck under the sun,
you left me there for so long.
Threaded through my gills,
a hard wire you could lift me by
and dip me now and then into the sea
keeping me alive for the knife that would come later
you acted like you cared when you put me in the water
I loved you for the kindness, I made my fish lips at you, did you see me blow you kisses when you pulled me out again? I didn’t know then, how long I’d be left there.
It doesn’t matter
I went a little out of my mind with the constant edge of live or die
with gasping for breath and being bathed
you checked the strength of the lock where you kept me strung up
it was effective whether you noticed me or not
I would flop sometimes, violently,
at times just a wave of a fin,
rotating my eye for a glimpse of the fisherman who snagged me, nowhere in my view, but I knew you existed, you had taken me from the depths, you had done this to me. Where were you?
That I am nothing, was disappointing, so it’s alright.
That you took the knife, finally, was the word I used,