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“SASHIMI” by Elena Goh

“SASHIMI” by Elena Goh
“Big Fish Eat Little Fish”—Pieter van der Heyden Netherlandish (1557)

“Fish cannot feel pain.” 

that’s what you told me {at least} 

at the back of a cab 

with your fly down and your fingers wet 

so when the hook 

spears 

though their eyeballs 

they feel nothing. 

and anyway your Father loves to fish 

and His Father 

and His Father before that 

Isn’t this country built on the labours of fishermen? 

for sweeter meat 

He taught you to 

thrust 

a metal rod into its spinal cord 

a severed spine stops the struggling, 

stops the lactic acid from entering the fat 

and making it bitter 

{again} he said, 

Fish cannot feel pain. 

for fresher flesh, 

serve cold on 

lemon, shiso, C-cup breast 

Wait for the warmth to leave her skin first. 

you want to avoid trembling, 

or contamination, 

non-food safe nipple sweat. 

for the adventurous, 

try the triangulated sake that pools, 

silk white against black 

In that crevice of 

{utmost invitation} 

your Father, 

He says it tastes like the sea 

that this is how Fishermen 

become pirates, sailors, captains of the deck.

you were once given goldfish 

as a gift 

three small suns, swimming in absent-minded orbit

{but they were ugly} 

you are a Fisherman’s son, 

you know the precise pH levels, purification, 

nutritional requirements of a goldfish tank 

you 

put them in 

piss 

and told the gifter, you gave me 

dead fish. 

thank God, your Father said, 

Pain is foreign to fish. 

Dear Fisherman, 

You are nothing like us, 

I know you can feel pain. 

So when the santoku screeches 

through your shoulder blades, 

strips skin from flesh, 

strips flesh from fat, 

When the anglerfish and angelfish 

rip slippery sinew from bone, 

swallowing your scream with 

soy sauce and avocado, 

When the damselfish pull the metal rod 

from your spinal cord, 

and lick at the sweet marrow, 

When the lamprey find your fisherman’s pride and mince it,

with circle-shaped mouths 

of a thousand, 

scissor-like teeth 

I will look into your eyes 

and I will not lie to myself.


Elena Goh is a writer and postgraduate student based in Singapore, currently pursuing a Masters in Creative Writing at the University of Cambridge. Her short fiction and poetry have been featured in Twin Flame Literary, Mosaic Art & Literary Journal, and The Writer's Block. Her film reviews have also been featured in the Singapore Film Society.