Illustrate Half This, An Upset
       

Fishing makes a cold verb, starts with air & winds up
Underwater.

What dazzles the fish—feathers, bright eggs—
Herring leaping into nets.

It's royal , right? Soldiers hammering ships.
Fishnets on a pinned-up lobster.

If we go back a thousand years,
More fish.

Kings & in-laws. Brisk & salacious gemmy
Crowns, breakfast danishes.

Half my hometown burned down in the hot
& smoky days before Christmas.

Airplanes belly ripe with water. The fighters,
Hoses. Workers in the fields still.

I am not a current Queen, stitching on
A royal cloud.

Familiar oaks gone in a rapturous tornado
Purpled in flying ash.

Owning no home can I be truly homeless?
My fingers stink of yarn.

The fire, it's restless.
Tempestuous devil in a garlic gale.

I would be a moody Queen.
Red garra fish feasting my charred feet.

It may be toothless, that carp—
Lighting tarts on fire.

Hunger quickens,
I fill my mouth with needles.

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Copyright © 2019 Emily Vizzo All rights reserved
from Giantess
YesYes Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission