When I Buy the Cheap Frozen Fish at the Wal-Store
my feet touch sediment, gathering particles of disintegration,
sliding between toes, slick silt, home of freshwater mudholes,
brown cattail lake, and tree roots, cannot compare to sea-salt
blue-surf, sand in gills, Pacific glistening and iridescent green,
I feed, my teeth like ancestor spears, your land-wrapped flesh,
luau leaf-folded and steamed, or raw, onion flecked with ogo.
frozen fingers slide plastic bag back and walk away without.
What images, what contrast with a memory of a Pacific Island home and the reality of
Wal-store frozen fish
So vivid! I love the line with “land wrapped flesh.”
I enjoyed slick silt and your fish snub at the end!