Tartar the Unfaithful Clam by Bill Gillard

I dream we’re at Five Islands again
the table next to the baithouse door
the eye-burning stench
of eons of pollock and
mackerel their scales scattered
like diamonds across
salt-soaked planks
that lead to the
commercial dock

She dunks fried
clams in tartar sauce
I’ve got a dead
lobster on the plate
in front of me and
I’m sipping root beer

The howling odor is just right
the stench of dead fish
better to dream of that than
the soft powder she wore
that she traced into the triangle of skin
with her thumb and middle finger
below her face
up and down the triangle
the face I can’t
stop dreaming about
herself
her unfaithful self

About the author:

I teach creative writing and literature at the University of Wisconsin. My writing has appeared in Writer’s Chronicle, Chiron Review, The Poetry Journal, SNReview, Paradigm, Review Americana, Dark Sky, The Literary Review, and in many other journals. I am also the once and future editor of Fox Cry Review, a regional print literary magazine from the University of Wisconsin – Fox Valley.