My Theodore comes home late after dark
He has styrofoam buckets flopping with
live fish, brim, and he cuts off their heads
as i listen to the gospel of jesus christ,
he beheads the living fish with a blunt dinner knife
their bodies flop in the sink, the gills still flashing,
the fish heads he gathers into a pile of large triangular faces
with huge horrified eyes, dead--i know this has hurt him
deep in his heart, if not healed some great unbearable pain,
and so prepare a skillet with lemon juice and a stick of butter
melting on high in the skillet on the stove. he takes the bodies
out of the sink basin and rinses them, puts them in a bowl,
and i prepare him a salted flour in which he dips each body raw
and slaps them in the yummy butter and lemon of the skillet
where they fry for a few minutes on either side, then
we eat them, scales, bones flying everywhere i gnaw at them
and eat, hungrily, he flicks a bit of fish gently from my hair
and then we go to bed with koolaid and watch the news
i toss the fish heads into the garden because they are good fertilizer
and the countertops are covered in fish guts!
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