Treasure Island

RIC S. BASTASA


440


Accept the fact
The fear that you have nothing to tell anymore
To amuse yourself

writers' block, shutting up, windows closing,
doors locked, mind shrinking,


like the fish vendor who sells rumors & rotten stories
To the streets
You go to the fish market today
Not buying any fish or selling any or even touching gills
so you can breathe

You’re looking for some
Salt
Taking notes of the fish scales discarded
Trashed
Some fish bones & broken fins

some fishermen catching
Broken hearts on their small eyed nets

You go back with fish fins
And fish tails, thick lips and round moving eyes

You will start with a mermaid story today.

Submitted: Saturday, February 21, 2009

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