​​H E R M E N E U T I C   C H A O S   J O U R N A L

T R O U T 

Off the coast of Biloxi, Mississippi,
I hold the fish by its lower jaw. Vivid on my skin, 
these teeth are fever between my fingers.

Tyler, aquiline nose, eyes like October,
his hand on my shoulder in a way that feels
like brother.  

Some things are primal: fever, family, the need
to always hunt
what wanted to slip through my grasp,

capture fugitives in my callused palms.
But I am not mystical, I am simply
in my element. 

         M.J.   A R L E T T 

M. J. Arlett is an MFA candidate at Florida International University. She was born in the UK, spent several years in Spain and now lives in Miami. Her work can be found in Portland Review, Gravel, Indianola Review, The Boiler Journal, Pittsburgh Poetry Review and elsewhere.