Scale Theory

By ​Farida Yahaya Tijjani 

The fish is dead, but its armour holds still.

A mosaic of silver coins overlapping

like roof tiles on a flooded house.

​My mother hands me the knife,

a dull, rusted thing,

and teaches me the art of subtraction.

​Scrape. ​The sound—a zipper forced open.

The scales fly off in a wet confetti

sticking to my wrists, decorating the sink

in sequins of gray light.

Here, witness the unmaking of the mackerel,

the ocean stripped off its back,

till all that’s left is white, shivering flesh.

​The gutting is the honest part.

But first, ​I push my thumb into the gill—

red, feathery fan sieving oxygen in the dark,

—and pull,

empty the insides into a plastic bag,

and empty a plastic bag inside

the open waters.

We sizzle in oil—curry, thyme, rosemary,

black pepper, blanketing the taste of the riverbed;

ingesting the wildness till it becomes us.

BIO:

Farida Yahaya Tijjani is a Nigerian poet, scriptwriter, and spoken word artist. Published in Aster Lit, Feral, Opinion Nigeria, and others, she uses creativity as a tool for healing. Recognized in poetry and short story competitions, Farida has performed across diverse platforms nationwide.