Town Tenant

fisherman, fisherman

you’re behind on your rent, stop leaving cod
in the mail slot, fish eggs on the stoop

your tree stump of a wife cannot bail you out,
stop putting her beside me in the market
while you buy your licorice
she cowers and plucks at her fingertips
smelling like salt and guts in her pale rubber boots

fisherman, fisherman
the net in the hall has to go, along with your
ultra-conservative daughter who looks at my son
with the dead eyes of Tuesday’s catch

he snacks on her disdain, on the roof
he swears while he smokes

after he stopped! fisherman

you pay what you owe
or I will go to Clarisse, and her rumors,
in every baked good walking out of her store,
will run you and your daughter out of town

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