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.