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Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Poem for April 16

Breaking . . . Fish . . . Together

the fish they’ve caught,
the couple fills itself/themselves.
Long years together. 
Years of fish.

He never said, “Wives clean fish.”
She never said, “When you’ve
cleaned the fish, bring them to me.”

Skin speckled like fish.
Wrinkles, glasses,
but emptying the fish
renews in its ritual;
sight sees again as sight is seen.

Sacred, this act.
Fish and hands in bloodied water,
liquid consecrated.  So pure
jewelry need not be removed.
They break . . . fish . . . together.

Lynn Veach Sadler

1 comment:

  1. The family that fishes together stays together. Good one.