after a photo by Robin Chase
She can’t find the knife.
She has looked everywhere.
She begins to feel uneasy.
They are laying ready
to be gutted, deboned,
butterflied for the evening rush.
Gills unbreathed.
Shiny button eyes.
Slimy, briny silverbacks.
The busboy takes a photo.
He is taking a night class.
Wants to be a fashion photographer.
Someone orders the bouillabaisse.
The knife must be found.
She bites the head off.
Photo by Robin Chase
