for sport

my claws protract as I reach my nails into

a turquoise aquarium, gently batting back

and forth at men on my phone like a cat

playing with prey for sport.

for a fleeting moment, I may graze their

flesh, but most of all I am drunk on the

sound of my fingers gliding through

waters of those who yearn while trapped.

perhaps they dash their fins or hide

in the depths, but nonetheless I chase

for minutes on hours before growing

uninfatuated, more than once with

a goldfish snagged on my claw,

and I drag him to the surface

and watch him drown on air

with gaping, open eyes.

once are a prize I wanted so

desperately when behind

glass, now before me, they

become unappetizing.

Ellianie Vega is a queer latinx writer currently based in Pennsylvania.