The Fisherman Takes the Fish Home Tells Her He Loves Her by Brenna Twohy Lyrics
A magician talks about the record for holding one’s breath
As his assistant lowers herself into a tank of water.
He calls it twenty-two minutes,
But I swear to you it’s longer,
I swear to you it’s years.
This is how I remember it:
When I would fall asleep with my glasses on,
He slid them off and cleaned them,
And then placed them on my nightstand
Every single time.
Once, I took a sip of wine
And I shrugged
And set my glass down on the counter
And he poured it down the sink,
And then the entire bottle.
He said, “Life is too short for bad wine.”
He said, “You deserve better.”
And I have not cooked chicken in four months.
The meat thermometer ended up in one of his boxes
And I have never been able to tell
Just by looking when something is finished.
And this is not a metaphor.
I am really afraid of food poisoning
And I know
Given an oven
And enough time
I would cook the chicken until it was charred and crumbling.
And this is not a metaphor
This is not about the way I didn’t even hear the timer go off
Until the entire kitchen was on fire.
“He seemed like such a nice guy,”
Everyone says,
As I tell them my new address,
As if you can tell from outside an oven if the meat inside is poison.
The assistant rises from the water
Frantic and worn out and gasping
And the audience cheers her escape
As she wonders if she could’ve held on just a little bit longer.
On our first date
He ran his fingertips across my skin
Like he was reading my palm.
And this is the hardest part:
That boy is not made of fists.
That boy learned how to braid my hair,
And these things do not untruth themselves
When the first door slams,
And I did not stop loving him
All the months I was holding my breath,
And this is the hardest part:
The way a fish is still a fish even after she’s been gutted,
Even after her lips split clean in half from the hook,
And the hook,
And the hook,
And do you think the fish blames herself,
And her own stupid, open mouth?
Do you think the fisherman apologised?
Said all he wanted was to hold her,
Said, “I have touched that hook for years
And it never once pierced me.
Darling, how could I have known?”
And do you think the fish forgave him?
Said, “I’m sorry too.
I promise I’ll try harder to breathe outside the water.”
As his assistant lowers herself into a tank of water.
He calls it twenty-two minutes,
But I swear to you it’s longer,
I swear to you it’s years.
This is how I remember it:
When I would fall asleep with my glasses on,
He slid them off and cleaned them,
And then placed them on my nightstand
Every single time.
Once, I took a sip of wine
And I shrugged
And set my glass down on the counter
And he poured it down the sink,
And then the entire bottle.
He said, “Life is too short for bad wine.”
He said, “You deserve better.”
And I have not cooked chicken in four months.
The meat thermometer ended up in one of his boxes
And I have never been able to tell
Just by looking when something is finished.
And this is not a metaphor.
I am really afraid of food poisoning
And I know
Given an oven
And enough time
I would cook the chicken until it was charred and crumbling.
And this is not a metaphor
This is not about the way I didn’t even hear the timer go off
Until the entire kitchen was on fire.
“He seemed like such a nice guy,”
Everyone says,
As I tell them my new address,
As if you can tell from outside an oven if the meat inside is poison.
The assistant rises from the water
Frantic and worn out and gasping
And the audience cheers her escape
As she wonders if she could’ve held on just a little bit longer.
On our first date
He ran his fingertips across my skin
Like he was reading my palm.
And this is the hardest part:
That boy is not made of fists.
That boy learned how to braid my hair,
And these things do not untruth themselves
When the first door slams,
And I did not stop loving him
All the months I was holding my breath,
And this is the hardest part:
The way a fish is still a fish even after she’s been gutted,
Even after her lips split clean in half from the hook,
And the hook,
And the hook,
And do you think the fish blames herself,
And her own stupid, open mouth?
Do you think the fisherman apologised?
Said all he wanted was to hold her,
Said, “I have touched that hook for years
And it never once pierced me.
Darling, how could I have known?”
And do you think the fish forgave him?
Said, “I’m sorry too.
I promise I’ll try harder to breathe outside the water.”