The fish on my slab
Eyes me, coyly.
She seems to wink slow approval of the knife.
It is my turn to cut,
Deep within her.
In control of her heart and the depth of the bite.
Her flesh is weak,
Slit, by the touch,
Opened up to the eager thrust, now-willing wife.
Tonight, I'll devour
Her flesh of the sea;
My gasping in passion and her twitching for life.
Fish-wife, you will know
My blade, unsheathed,
The little deaths and the cold flesh kept under ice.
Author notes
Prompt: Fish out of water
Written from the husband's POV.
The fish/The wife
The sharing of food in the coldness of the unhappy marriage ritual.
The violent savagery of the husband.
Without the freedom of the sea, she can only thrash for air on his slab.
A contest entry
- a fish out of water... by PrabhuDayal Khattar.
400 points, ended February 6, 2008, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Fish-wife, you will know
My blade, unsheathed,
The little deaths and the cold flesh kept under ice.
Ah..what a sharp edged immagery you brought ..a heartfelt write is here..well done..
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