Bone Song

After all flesh is flensed,
the shape of the fish

is leaf, or the hull of a boat—
Flattened and dried

to the hue of balsa, whole
schools swim in waterless air.

In the dried fish market,
it’s hard to disregard

the certainty of what
they know: smell and taste

of sun-dried putrefaction,
gifts of salt and leathered skin

the body wants to hold on to
for as long as it possibly can.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Diagnosis.

Leave a Reply