Nibblers

 

I dream garra rufa fish

feed toothless on my bare feet,

 

nibble dead skin from toes,

heels, my soles, my soul.

 

Evil ones, piranha of sorts, 

leap clear of water, aim

 

for my chest -- like you, rip me

open, devour arteries, ventricles,

 

everything vein. I am left to pray

for holy stents again.

 

 

                              Timothy Pilgrim