dead fish

dead fish

pale insides of
dead fishes
lidless eyes ever staring
hook lip worm swallow
throw it back?
no not this time

pale with a greenish cast
does it frighten you?
disgust horror revulsion
limply hanging off the
board, bloody-
is that real?
of course not, pet;
nothing is real
hook lip swallow

that dead fish we saw
when I was young
do you remember?
the butchered it in their garage

gulp down
world is yours for the
kidneys giblets brains livers roe
devour the
through a straw
ingurgitate slurp
see the

© Bridget Noonan, 2007, 2011.

Sometimes, I want to write things. And then these are the things that come out. I am positive I didn’t plan to write something this disjointed and fucked.  Then again, it was in another city, and besides that wench is dead.*

*Sorry, gotta add/ask something: am I allowed to [mangle a] quote from a play I’ve never read, as long as I have good intentions about reading it in the future? Like, it’s on the list, but the list is kind of huge. I’m thinking it’ll take the rest of my friggin life to read (hold onto your monocles, kids) over 6000 books. (I say!)

Anyway. I have to be awake in like six hours. Fuck.

Is it sick that I’m posting a picture of a fish colouring page for children after that fucked up poem?

aren't they just darling

…meh, probably.


Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s