by Lily Eby

Last night I read scripture to the waters
feeling the sounds of open vowels with my mouth
and sunfish came in on hooks of children’s
delight, to lie by my side and die.

I am the teacher. The class, Butchering 101.
head tail guts scales
scraped off and out to our
scads of cats on standby.

A reflex is a reflex, my darling. Not life.
Life is when sun was still a part
of this matter’s name
and a twitch was one half
of the length of this pond.

When Dawn came, I baked
what was left in old bay with some butter
and when Mama heard sounds
she came down and frowned
because fish, they’re just not for breakfast.

But you know, with our mouths full of fish
we said, “Maybe all of the sun
is still part of their name!”
And our day started out with the clearest of skies
and the taste of the sun in our lungs.

Lily Eby is a taxi driver for children and believes in weekly adventures.

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