fishing
Sean Patrick Mulroy
When he came to pick her up, he brought flowers.
They’re soooo pretty, she said, raising both eyebrows.
After a long, uncomfortable pause,
he coughed. A sardine flew from his lips
and stuck to the lapel of her sweater.
Not as pretty as you! it squeaked
just before it fell to the floor, suffocated, and died.
She clapped her hands in delight.
At the restaurant, they ate dinner in silence.
When the waiter brought the dessert menu,
she sighed. Oh, I really shouldn’t.
I’m trying to watch my weight.
Before he could ask for the check,
a tiny crab skittered from between his teeth.
Are you kidding? You’re so thin! it muttered
before the waiter covered it with a wine glass
and carried it away on a tray.
Back at her house, they made quiet love
and soon he lay still beside her, open-mouthed and snoring.
Careful not to wake him, she crept to the kitchen
for a bucket of ice. Certain he was still asleep,
she fed a line down his throat and waited
until she felt a tug, slowly reeled in a fat salmon
that moaned, You are the best fuck that I’ve ever had.
With a smirk of recognition, she tossed it in the bucket.
Next she pulled up a grubby looking sunfish
that grunted You retard. Why can’t you do anything right!?
and then a sharp looking starfish that hissed,
You’re just like your father.
Determined to learn more, she dropped the line in again
and with a sharp yank brought up a heavy boot,
pond scum oozing from a hole in the toe, gurgling,
I don’t care if it’s the school play, no son of mine
is gonna dance like a fairy. When she turned the boot
over to pour out the water inside, a tiny pink snail shell
fell into her palm. I wish you’d never been born!
it shrieked, and slithered in between her fingers like blood.
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