The Scale of Things

As the scale of things would have it
Women will martyr fishes, as many as it takes
To turn the tides
Inside out 
The way that lovers metamorphose,
Spewing electric slivers in their wake,
Spooling away the lachrymose shivers, 
Gasoline, spilled,

The wetness spreading
Between incandescent peninsulas

Leaving the megalopolis behind,
The light comes in stabs
Off of car hoods and roofs

A small plane hums between the islands, emerald greens and blues
My nostrils
Combed by kerosene
Inhale the stillness that is flight

I would prefer a Pacific death
If ever I should be
As a dead fish under you

First published in The Lullwater Review, Spring 2021:

Published by Johanne Boulat

Johanne Boulat was born in French-speaking Switzerland, where she lives again now, but she grew up under the resplendent California sun. For 21 years she basked in the spirit of the Wilderness, which she discovered on hiking as well as literary paths. She received her Bachelor of Science in Animal Biology from the University of California, Davis in 2012 and since then has worked as a scientific field aid, a translator, a sales specialist, and a running coach. In 2018, she completed her master’s degree in English Literature at the University of Lausanne in Switzerland. She now teaches English and Science at a local elementary school and dedicates her free time to the three “R”s: Running, Reading, and Writing.

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