Poached Salmon

Look at me laid out on a cold metal plate. People circle and chat as my pink flesh turns slowly yellow and dries. Oohing and aahing they stop to admire me and the white paper fringes that decorate my final resting spot. Helpless I close my glassy eyes, waiting for the moment when they will lean down and and with a white wafer scoop up a piece of my desiccated flesh.

submitted by Kim Zicafoose Virginia Commonwealth University July 2001

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