by Liz DeGregorio
I imagined slicing you open like a fish,
straight down your sternum,
your organs spilling out into a neat pile
on my kitchen floor.
I even thought you’d have a fishy smell
(well, why not?)
like digging for clams or opening a tuna can:
It’s bad, but you can’t stop sniffing.
I longed to find your deep-red insides,
your pulpy heart beating to
a rhythm only I could recognize,
if it didn’t skip a beat, after all that time.
Liz DeGregorio‘s writing has appeared in Ruminate Magazine, BUST Magazine, Gravitas, The Tulane Review, Scorpion Magazine, Beyond Words Literary Magazine, Decomp Journal, *82 Review, The Ocotillo Review, From Whispers to Roars, Ponder Review, Crack the Spine’s anthology “Neighbors,” Riva Collective’s Chunk Lit, Two Sisters, Indie Blu(e) Publishing’s anthologies “SMITTEN” and “As the World Burns,” In Parentheses and “The Heartbreak Project” anthology. She’s also performed at Providence’s Dorry Award-winning storytelling series Stranger Stories.