Carp and the Fishwife-Aurora Phoenix

woman with fish

I have carpe diemed

until all the carp

are washed up

on the shore

gasping fishwifery

roughness bristling

impotent

between whistling whiskers

and all I’ve seized

slips termagant and scaly

from grasping idolatry.

I have spawned upriver

up the falls

beyond grandmother’s house

my scales shimmering

rusted rainbow glimmering

floundering

in the faltering

rays of the day

until all I am left with

are mottled fish kisses

flaking incrustations

and the film of rotting chum

scummy skinned

upon my teeth

 

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Aurora Phoenix

I write as Aurora Phoenix. Nine months ago my world shattered. Unexpectedly and dramatically arrested, I have been incarcerated ever since, as I await the unbearably slow machinations of the system. Devoid of verbal communication that is unmonitored, pen and paper have served as my truest outlet for grief, fear and angst. Armed with toilet paper for intermittently copious tears, my motions experience and reflections are PaperMate poured. In this chapter of my life, I write.

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