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Fish Soul


This fish's soul came back

I snapped it, it left again

returning as your nephew,

a man who's sweet

He's a pescatarian

he doesn't eat meat,

just fish: solely sole and sunnies

They don't cry when they bleed

and there are "plenty"

so it feels less scaly, slimy, sleazy

to eat them than the rest

He got a job selling northwest clams

at Sunday's market in New York's country


It's not his fault nor does he know

that comfort and efficiency

are costing us all fish in seas and eco-stability



All he's thinking about

is how sore his soles feel after

taekwondo

how it soothes his soul to grab sushi

across the street

Next to where he waits for his usual,

there's a poster of Seoul

etched so deeply as an earliest memory

that he doesn't see it anymore

and won't until he's left home

returns

a registered nurse,

ceramicist,

new soul, same body though,

occasional activist

who doesn't want kids.

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