LONG DISTANCE LOVE (STUDY)

by Linda Ryynänen

When I am with you, I am plucking out the eyes
        and eating them softly, their gelatinous mass oozing
between my teeth. I roll them between my tongue,
         under the flesh, the muscular structure. I find that
the eyes are the best part. A richness, like oysters,
         some say it's like foie gras. I wouldn’t know. Do you?

My great aunt took two stones and tied them to her feet.
        To have walked out into the lake and drowned herself.
I wonder the feeling of watching the fish swim past,
        to reach out barehanded, grasping, while my lungs fill with
freshwater. The water must have been so cold. So cold.

Today, I am in our rowboat, without you. Tomorrow,
         my feet will be by the fire. Tonight, they will be moved
by the gentle waves of the water. I have to row twice
         as hard without you. But the sun continues to go up
and down. I will pluck fish eye after fish eye, too close
         to leave. If I could, I’d string them up on a necklace,
wrap it around my neck, and call out your name.

 Linda Ryynänen currently lives in Maryland.