Fish

by Martin Figura

I throw a few crumbs, then feel your weight
as you snatch at my barbarous line.
 
You mouth and mouth as if trying to explain.
All I get is maggoty river-breath. The gilt
 
of your scales dull in the air. A thumbnail
could easily split your soft underbelly, spill your guts.
 
I give you back to the river,
its current of brown water.