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Fish

Something Caught

By Samantha WilliamsPublished 6 years ago 2 min read
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I.

I see fish in my thoughts. Their bones spread out. Carved underneath a hollow space of soft tissue. I nestle myself there. Weeks I waited to go fishing with my grandpa. Tackle boxes much like coolers used to carry body parts. Boy from next door running out to us. We sit in the back. My brother, sister and I. Glances from the neighborhood boy pull me as we pull worms back on pointy hooks. His eyes like cockroaches crawling up my legs. He moved near and then away. My brother next to me checks my rod. Grandpa pulls hooks out of fat lipped brown fish. I see the boy from the neighborhood coming. He is almost on top of me hand squeezing up my shirt. A fish moves at my feet willing opens its mouth takes in my worm. It is silver. I watch as eyes begin to turn glossy (like fancy magazines you read but don’t buy) then I am bending down and turning away from the boy. There is a jolt in my hand. A movement of unhooking. And the fish is gone.

II.

The ride home I stay quiet. The neighborhood boy is dropped off. My brother closes the cherry wood stained door and locks in place. Grandpa hits fish on the white table with its small flowers in the corners. Removing every bone. He is slow at this. Grandma sits with a bowl of cornmeal resting on her thighs. She breads chunks her hands weaving in and out. Cast iron skillet weighted with Crisco. We shuck peas from shells. The boneless pieces swim till golden brown. I refuse to eat them. I am coaxed and coached. The smallest piece handed to me. I push at it with my tongue. There is a pinching against my lip then shooting through gums. It brings me to tears. My gums start to pull the bone in. And it doesn’t hurt anymore. Then my grandpa is up, chair walking backwards against the floor. He pulls back my lip yanking at the silver bone. It falls out. There is emptiness in my mouth.

surreal poetry
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About the Creator

Samantha Williams

Mom of a 2 yo. An art student studying painting (watercolor) and printmaking with a minor in creative writing. I have been writing poetry since I was 13 it is my safe space to tell and figure out how and what I feel.

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