dressed fish no milt no scales no head
in the stall in kalvarijos market dripping juices
the only one in the whole market
the warm day just as exceptional
chernobyl’s sharp sun seeps into
the calves of young girls
forces your eyes shut but it’s beautiful
I remember as if it had happened today
I bought that fish for the wedding
my own whose else
we ate it for three days
washing it down with beer
after thirteen years of agonizing love
all I know I transformed into a fish
after death I’ll go to the heaven of fish
in the baltic near the šventoji
deprived of holiness by radiation
bigger than an average crucian carp
with transparent bones
with big eyes and a mouth full
of our history