There it was. All overturned like
an upset stomach. Inflated and
belching, covered in writhing
steel flagella. Aluminum tin of
tuna, stabbed and leaking
fresh-squeezed juice. Red
juice. Sneeze-inducing,
iron-scented rose-red juice, almost
like old tomatoes. Thick and
sticky, it blankets the arms
pulling out the mangled fish.