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The Web Poetry Corner - Stephen Cree - At The Fishmongers

At The Fishmongers

by

Stephen Cree

As Mr Starkey busily mongers
I am drawn to a salmon
paralysed on a deep bed of crushed ice.
I imagine this fresh water freedom fighter
flexing and thrashing silver blue armour
as the hunter reels this piscean to it's fate.
This makes me sad.
I study the salmon form
fetching fanned fins
paper-cut gills
glassy flesh
and swollen lips.
The salmon's ink black beady eye catches mine
and the salmon says
I'm not dead y'know.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at the eclipse of the sun
by: Anne Strausser
from: Harrisburg, PA, US

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