Talin Tahajian: IMAGE AS FISHMONGERS

I have seen you as fishmongers

in an effort to forget. Twelve of them

selling thick pearls of meat.

All of them are you. Headless

as prawn. Bass filleted & frozen, muscle

grey as dusk. I know what it is like

to lie naked across ice, feel flesh slice.

I pretend to know.

      • •

I want to know what you passed into my mouth

as you slid upward, chest first. I remember a fisherman

unloading his boat. Herring packed

into a tackle box, snug bodies. Eyes slick,

glossy. Their silver is something I want to ingest.

I bite their eyelids softly, pull them shut.

      • •

There is nothing here

that I want to remember as fact. It is a fact

that every person believes they are more than a god.

That is the part of me you harpooned. Cut your name into.

This poem appeared in Kenyon Review