you hollow out the fish you caught
dissecting the bones and throwing them into the fire
the smell of marrow burning.
you remember it
since the day your father belted you
on a camping trip up north. the smell is almost
comforting. this was the last time he felt anything for you.
even if it was hate
but we could toss that in the fire,
listen to it cackle and hiss
another memory.
you could wince, but the calmness of the water
always brings you back to it.
and secretly you love to think of it.
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