Sometimes among the fish and crabs, we trawl squid and octopus, or little sharks, all added to the pots. Sometimes it’s a fish person, a thing we cut free and do not talk of, pretend we never saw.
Today, it is part of a god.
no one wants to understand / why you smell like acid gut and carrion
Grandmother, the wolf’s voice was / a lullaby, the night sky...
