The fish was born
with a foul mouth.
His mother carried him
in a plastic bag
from the Gulf of Mexico
to a motel in Laredo.
For thirteen years
he lived beneath the bed,
eating moths and dust.
When the police arrived,
he was wearing
nothing
but a white T-shirt.
They found his mother
dead in the bathtub,
her mouth wrapped
around the faucet.
I order the Mexican fish
with rice and beans
and two flour tortillas.
The waiter brings
a bowl of brown gravy
and asks whether
I knew the family.
About the Author: Jacob Friesenhahn is the author of the poetry collection The Prayer of the Mantis (Kelsay Books, 2025). This poem appears here for the first time.