Prose Rotten Fruit

[Hannah Capps]

These scaled, sore gills.

Five out of ten.

Crown of thorns.

Bitten within.

Too much taken.

Much to learn.

How to live (give?)

Hollow eyes, haunting cries.

Daisy's gotten under my skin.

Calloused hands scale your fins.

Vague heart yellow,

Black bleeds to blue.

Entwined together,

Overripe and new.