Care to cut off her head? he asks, this man
unused to deciphering moods of women,
as the trout shines silvery pink in a flutter
of aged newsprint. Two clean strokes
and a crack, then a one-swipe slit removes
her stomach. With the tip of the blade he slices
the sac to examine her last meal–green worms
spun in tight black cocoons–and marvels
at her instincts. I squint at the purplish mound
of liver, deep red rounds of her gills, that head,
her endless gaze towards the sink, pieces
immodest, exposed, bright red and quivering.
That vibrant lump–her heart–I see it beat!
and clutch his arm, engaged in filleting
the meat. Enthralled, he fills a glass bowl
with crushed ice and with tenderness,
dexterity, he balances this prize and tucks
it down deep. We watch her pulse together
until only one chamber remains and just when
I think I’m safe he plucks it up and eats.
About the Author: SG Woody is an East Coast native currently in search of a good city. She earns a living writing boring things for interesting people and splits the rest of her time between her books, her Dalmatian mix, and her pen. Her poetry is forthcoming in 3Elements Review.