I practice in the mirror—
fish-hook each corner of my mouth
with a nervous index finger and pull.
I practice my breathing,
brush the scale enamel off my teeth,
open my mouth wide like
the surgeon will do with his rod and reel hands.
Under anesthesia, I am a smallmouth bass,
(teach me how to rattle bone against pharyngeal teeth before I am)
angled, skinned, slit open
head to hind-end
with a pocketknife
that leaves only clean lines,
of guts and broken bone. When I wake up,
mom is wiping dried blood from my chin and hair
with a washrag that runs a cool, clean river down my neck.
Teach a man to fish and I’ll tongue
the line out from my cheek then
swallow the hook.
Adrian Sanders is a full-time creative writing major at Western Kentucky University, part-time book slinger, and social media intern for The Field Office. Her work has appeared in Jelly Bucket, Red Mud Review, and Lemon Star Mag. When she is not reading or writing, you can find her skating with Vette City Roller Derby. Find Adrian on twitter @adrianbreanna.