literature

Unrefined

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sherbetblooms's avatar
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Literature Text

Her thick, peasant hands
run along a pregnant Pisces,
she feels for the full moons
inside of its gut.

She slides a fat knife
that we've had for years,
de-scaling our dinner,
as she has many, many times.
I watch with childish cat-eyes,
from under a tangle of curly, blonde locks.

The sun glimmers through
the wooden lattice that covered
the entrance of our
open backyard kitchen,
I breathe in the afternoon-air,
moist with soil and fresh grass.

She smiles at my curiosity.
"esta tiene pescaditos", she notes.
As if it's skin were as clear as a crystal ball.
A swift chop
and the fish's head has separated
from its body,
it makes me think of a magician's
beautiful assistant.

I pick it up and poke at it's dead-eyes.
I reach over
and softly touch its tail.
This prompts a wish
inside of me:
a pastel pink clam bra,
long hair and a pearly tail for legs.

She makes us
Huevos de pescado rustido.
I know where the fish eggs
came from
But it tastes like it was made
in a land where unicorns frolic.
Magic exists. This poem is for my grandmother Leonor. 
© 2014 - 2024 sherbetblooms
Comments6
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vespera's avatar
What a great tribute :)