Thursday, January 12, 2012

IL PESCATORE

Knives stropped sharp.
Fish with teeth like needles,
and scales like razors.

Hands ever scarred.

Blood and entrails-stained apron
worn as a uniform.

Scale encrusted boots,
looking more like fins than feet.

It’s always cold and wet.
No matter.

I can carve you a banquet,
presented in yesterday’s newspaper.


©T.Puma/MMXII

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