His
mouth a grimace as slit as the belly
of his first catch, his Grandfather
peeling back the sequin skin
with the blade of his knife, laying open
the heart beating, the body dead
observe,
he said, it pumps the soul free
and he lanced it, placed the heart, alive
in the palm of his hand
this,
he said, is what happens
when you die, and he baited his hook,
dropped his line
into the water
the
boy peered through his won face
bending and glaring on the waves
as he waited for the silver flash
of fish in the murky
underworld
you
see, his granfather said
giving the ror a good tug
on what he thought was a bite
this way we do not die
in vain