Pablo is mesmerized by wine.
The fish is very quiet on the plate,
a sadness in his vacant eye,
a milky button stitched to the chitin
of its ancient skull, first vertebrate,
fins limp like flattened wings,
once fingers, toes, so like himself.
The gardener says the eagles fought,
screeched, tore the fabric of the air,
dropped his fish from the sky,
sharp hooks raking scars across its back,
while all around the villa
the acquisition of the ocean’s catch
tells all he needs to know of greed.
Somewhere on another shore,
they haul out baskets bulging with silver flesh,
dogs wade in knee-deep, and catch
them in soft jaws, flip them onto shore.
Dories, so full, they often sink,
fishermen in their lust for heavy scale
freeze numb and drown.
From slippery decks nets are dragged
to catch the remnants of wily bottom feeders
who in the past were never caught.
But Pablo, has his sandals off,
his massive feet cool on the tile.
Tonight he is eating fish dropped by eagles
fighting for their prey.
Tonight he chooses a younger woman for his bed
with smoother skin, soft breasts to mould like clay.
After the meal he takes the fish’s spine,
thin curved ribs, the chitin head, its flattened button eye,
takes time to press its remains into azure paint
takes time to print copies of what he sees
takes time to drink more wine
takes time to touch the curve
below her ankle bone before they fall asleep.
David Fraser lives in Nanoose Bay, on Vancouver Island. He is the founder and editor of Ascent Aspirations Magazine, since 1997. His poetry and short fiction have appeared in many journals and anthologies, including recently, Rocksalt, An Anthology of Contemporary BC Poetry. He has published three collections of poetry, Going to the Well (2004), Running Down the Wind (2007) and No Way Easy, 2010. To keep out of trouble he helps develop Nanaimo’s spoken-word series, WordStorm.