about the author
Jennifer Bartell is a native of Johnsonville, South Carolina. She is an MFA candidate
at the University of South Carolina in Columbia and is an alumna of Agnes Scott College. Her poetry has been
published in Jasper Magazine, The Art of Medicine in Metaphors, Letras Caseras, The Double
Dealer, 2013, and is forthcoming in A Sense of the Midlands. She is the 2013-2014 Dean’s MFA
Fellow and is also a co-editor of Yemassee, USC’s literary journal.
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Scaling
Jennifer Bartell
Alternative content
A tar-complected river shimmers; its color mirrors that of the fisherman, who slivers through the water. Searches
for Bream. Spots. Bass. Croaker. Shad. Treasures his bounty—land-bound. The last bit of water evaporates from
their lungs, blacks their eyes. Tiny round translucent rainbows fleck up into the sky. Scales the first fish,
cuts it open: cleans the insides out, leaves its head on. Saves the shad’s eggs, to make fried caviar with grits.
Ms. Everlina’s Country Caviar: Boil fish roe. Pour water off. Cool. Peel ‘em. Put ‘em in oil. Stir it
round. Put a lid on it. Beat 3 or 4 hen eggs with salt and pepper in a bowl. Pour in with roe. Fry the hen eggs with the
fish eggs. Disclaimer: Only seasoned women can make this caviar. The sturgeon has nothing on this delicacy.
Scales the cankerous colon, cuts her open: cleans the insides out, leaves her head on. He saves the tumors for
biopsy stew, with a side of metastasis. A speck for the liver, lungs—the flecks spread.
Waiting for the fish,
in and out of water. In
hot oil and closed rooms.