when the fish swallows the hook, the night falls, dragging purple down into the belly of the sea. to the little red cooler on the dock comes the blue gill — sore stomach heaving, spine twisted in his body, body molded furiously to the cup of my hand. I touch the scaling under his rolling eyes, press the pad of my thumb against his bulbous jelly lips, hold him — heaving chest and the sweaty slope of his jaw, the shuddering, guts spilling out white throat, hook snarled up into matted organ mass — and wind the line around my hand,

and yank.

Ruben Adkins is a senior studying poetry and realistic fiction at Douglas Anderson School of the Arts in Jacksonville, Florida. Many of his works are built around exploring, discovering, and warring against one’s self. This probably says something about him, but he isn’t sure what.


Photo Credit: JW

One Response to “Guilt”

  1. Ian Hock says:

    I like how they used a lot of description words and how the story got to it made a story as better then one of the longer ones

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