This Fish

Plucked right out of the sky,

a fish of largeness,

a bass,

and me,

not expecting this big.

 

All day,

I thanked the bass,

as it lay on ice,

in keeping.

 

Then me,

steaming and eating the fish,

imagining its life in this lake, 

its body,

sleek scales in glinting flight,

water flight,

weightless,

like outer space.

 

And me,

pulling it

right out of its sky.

 

With every bite,

this fish,

now,

me.