grief fish

Follow a grief-filled narrative between a father and daughter, reminiscing.

in the bronx dad tells me it is ritual / to smash open a beer bottle / and pour its secrets out onto the sidewalk / an offering / he laughs / for the brothers who could not be here / our dinners are usually silent / filled with the soft hum of unspoken prayers / but tonight dad cracks open / spilling himself into my hands / with words that promise to stick / i had only heard some people could drink like a fish / never seen it happen before / it is the night grandma calls / for the first time in years / to tell us grandpa lost himself to grief / had decided to become a snapper / and burst into the caribbean sea / not once looking back / dad becomes a goldfish for a time / wide-eyed and hazy / though nothing more than that / he couldn’t stand being too free / at breakfast the next morning dad is quiet again / his loosened body / now hardened into silence / perhaps he wants to be a red snapper too / to swim in silver waters / no blood left to surrender