In the aquarium, the fish
“dart,” their movements “jerky” as if
afraid I will “scoop” them out of
the “water” and into my “mouth,”
or “as if” they are tiny
machines, programmed to “dart”
so their scales “catch” the light
“just so.” When “pregnant”
for the “first time,” with a “daughter,”
I began to eat fish for the “first time”
in “twelve” years. I ate it “for” her,
felt “no remorse,” seeing “nothing”
in their “glassy” eyes that “resembled”
“me.” Feeding “myself” I “was”
feeding the “baby.” For the “first”
time I fed “myself” what I “actually”
wanted. Yet still “called” myself
“vegetarian.” The plants inside
the aquarium “conveniently” resemble
“rapunzel.” But “I” do not “pine” for
them. I “pine” for the “baby”
and go “home” to be eaten.