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Allison Zaczynski
Grocery Store Seafood Ice Case
The art of it all –
smoothing the ice
with the back of the shovel,
sweeping my arms
to create a slope –
the perfect slope –
a midpoint between gravity and eyes –
where the fish can rest on its side
without sliding to a slump.
The exact degree I do not know,
that knowledge instead is stored
in my arms, shoulders,
in my back –
in the muscles.
I patchwork them all
like a patterned graveyard –
white flesh among
the pink, the orange,
the red, the grayish
until the display is assembled.