Goya's fish
Step aside from the stack of purple plums,
the hunk of meat wrapped in creamy fat,
the huge copper vase of cut flowers,
and you’re standing in front of Goya’s fish
where a woman shudders, says
I don’t think still life was his forte.
Right enough, Goya’s golden bream
are all washed up. You wouldn’t want them
hanging on your wall. Those gaping mouths,
those flayed eyes, forbid it. That black bead
set in cold gold has seen things no eye
should ever have had to look upon.
Neither still, nor life, nor even dead,
Goya’s fish are not fitted for consumption.
Page(s) 8-9
magazine list
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- Staple
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- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
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