my career

hagfish slowly crowd the carcass. after they feed, i take the tongs and wring them, one by one. they exhude so much mucus, my industrial gloves are drenched, and the precious goop schlopps into the basin. I continuously rub against the oozing skin, and more comes out, until tge hagfish can’t make any more mucus . I dump him in the ‘empties’ tank, let him recoup until the midnight milking. I take the tongs and pull out another ‘full’ fish, which immidiately starts to ooze.

after the basin is filled, and all the fish were milked, I have a coffee, while the freeze drier does it’s thing. the machine struggles to push the glue through, but it never fails.

I package the flakes and vacuum. i clean around. I dump another carcass for the hagfish to chew on. once a month a guy with a black suit and sunglassrs comes by, hands me money in untracables and i hand him the produce. every time I entice him to talk. I'll say 'how's the rocket coming along?' or 'any virgins still on the expedition roster?' but he never answers. I'm starting to think his kind have no concept of humor. or perhaps, hagfish mucus is the remedy for a homesick poet. who knows, right?