She strums her red gills and tells me she loves me.
I blow into my hands and say nothing.
In the ice house, beef carcasses pivot like catwalk models.
She eats a live mouse and asks if I have read Kierkegaard.
I watch the bulge in her throat.
A white tail hangs through the gap in her teeth,
swiping back and forth across her sleek jaw.
She watches me - gulps, gulps,