Steve Walter
Mullet
Picking fish scales out of the plug hole
in the kitchen sink, reminds me how I cling -
wanting to be more than friends.
Scales, like the wear-for-a-day contact lens
you leave in the wash basin
barely visible, tough meniscus.
We cannot agree it is over.
We eat Grey Mullet, raked with a knife
before baking, flaked silver skin.
Each bite holds a memory -
our first meal together
pizza, anchovies and afterwards
our love bridging the Atlantic
uniting continent with island.
In spite of us, the sea turns and rises.
Page(s) 37
magazine list
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