Battered
fishwife in flight
The batter on the fish
at least it peels away
picked off to steam in paper
revealing the sweetness
the flesh kept safe from all that heat and
fuss
his battering it stuck to me like the glue
you get for wounds
it could have kept a million appendix in
he made of me a time machine
rocketing back and forth - always ready to become a little girl
at thirty at forty at fifty
a word shouted catapults me
free falling to the beginning of time
there it is the crux of the unwilling
the unwilling of me
that is his practice
that is his trade
that is his shame
I’m a time lord now
flying in the air holding tightly to what I
know
never the fishwife
like you screamed
flying fish
is me
great writing!
ReplyDeleteOuch. What it cost to escape... So good.
ReplyDeleteI decided this is the month to dig right in eh.
ReplyDeletegreat poem, horrible subject
ReplyDeleteGreat title and poem, how the fish and battering images play out held me. Very moving and skilful. Thanks for digging deep, Kerri.
ReplyDelete