Complicit Fish
She swims up to the hook,
As slick-shiny-silver in the moving water as she is
In the air,
And studies.
The flap of her lip bobs on the barb in front of her,
Only then does she remember to feel
The current flowing through the sensitive, jagged skin.
She has already lost flesh to this.
It is unlikely, she knows,
That if she bites again,
The old, dead piece will reanimate back into her,
Whole again,
But perhaps not impossible.
Complicit fish,
She wraps her mouth around the whole,
Hook and scrap and past.
The pain is tearing and cold and familiar,
And the blood,
Spilling over a new, second emptiness and her still clamped lips,
Is gushing, and warm, and familiar.
About the Poet
Caroline Morris is an aspiring writer based in the Philadelphia suburbs and currently works as an editor. She received her B.A. in English literature with a concentration in writing at the Catholic University of America in 2022. Morris has previously been published by Vermilion, Silent Spark Press, Beaver Magazine, and the Penwood Review, with two honorable mentions for the O'Hagan Poetry Prize.
Twitter: @Lean_writer