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a lil poem (about fish, of course) inspired by the idea of smallness letting you in to a stranger's life or experience. title wip.

Begin with the halibut

resting on the butcher’s block.

Begin with the scissors he will use

to carefully snip off the fins. Better yet, begin

with the small cut the butcher makes behind the head

in a curve to lift out the gills, hooking his finger

to pull out and shake loose the breathing

machine. What precision. What tender

permission the cut grants the butcher, who,

though he has touched fish like this

hundreds of times before, knows

it is important, this way of restoring

something like life to the chilled body,

the necessary way his blade loves

everything it touches.

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love the delicacy of the zoom-in to the "small cut the butcher makes behind the head / in a curve to life out the gills" - the imagery in that whole line is so vivid and precise, I feel like I'm looking in the reflection of the blade itself !

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thanks katie! 🥰

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