The Way Of All Flesh
The live fish twitched
shrugged its tail
and seemed to pale.
Just before it lost its head
the fish observed me
with a cold careless eye.
“Do your worse! ” it said
as if it were a British spy
being tortured by a cruel Gestapo.
Brutally decapitated
with a sudden twak
It became just a body
it’s head feasted upon by feral cats who had patiently
waited just for that.
It was now even more deader
if that could possibly be
made more dead by my Auntie’s laughter.
“What’s the matter boy...
did ya think that fish grew on your plate
and that spuds and peas grew on trees? ”
She was pleased with her wit
and laughed uproariously at it.
Her laughter was so alive.
I watched my Auntie’s hand
execute the movements necessary
for a real live fish to become a fish dish.
I felt sick.
Prising the skeleton out
“He won’t be needing these! ”
her laughter wheezed
with the point of the knife
the tip of her tongue
sticking out
in utter concentration
as she made her point.
[...] Read more
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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