You clearly think
you are a salmon.
Thick flesh
orangey-pink.
Belly full of eggs
shiny and slippery
like little dark grapes.
I remember the time you fell out of the bag
into the ocean
as we were walking up the ramp
to the cabin.
I wonder,
did you try and try
to flex your lumpy shape,
excited to finally prove
you could swim
and when you lay
strangely still
on the ocean floor
did you call out to the fish
it’s okay
I am happy
to have died
at home.