Poetry
Contemporary Poetry - Mature Audience
1 min
An Algonquin Woman Saves Herself
Mary Finnegan
Sometimes, a fishhook
and a bit of flesh
are all you need
to save your baby
and yourself.
Take the knife,
slice off a piece of thigh,
and with that meaty part
of your own body:
Bait the hook.
Savor
the sweet taste of the fish,
the cool,
arctic flavor of this lake trout
that saves you.
Everything may be frozen,
encased in the ice
that killed your tribesmen.
Your son may grow cruel.
But for now:
You survive.
You need only
a knife, a hook,
madness enough
to sliver your own flesh.
Mary R. Finnegan is a writer and nurse living in Philadelphia. Her essays and poems have appeared in Lydwine, PILGRIM: A Journal of Catholic Experience, Catholic Digest, The Catholic Poetry Room, The American Journal of Nursing, Ekstasis, and elsewhere. She also writes at https://maryrfinnegan.substack.com.
Originally published in Algebra of Owls, September 12, 2018, "An Algonquin Woman Saves Herself" iis published by Short Édition as part of Philly Storied City, a city-wide literary project.
Originally published in Algebra of Owls, September 12, 2018, "An Algonquin Woman Saves Herself" iis published by Short Édition as part of Philly Storied City, a city-wide literary project.
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