Fish Lake

Posted: July 6, 2010 in My Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

We ride into dawn
in a rented dinghy:
Faded orange life-vests
over layered flannel shirts.

As dawn warms into morning,
we shed our clothes like skins,
until we sit in swimsuits,
life-vests left tangled in cast off clothing.

Still as a wooden figurehead,
you curl over the prow,
wearing sunlight on your back;
fishing pole slack in your hands,
lure under the lake
like spinning sunken treasure.

At the rear of the boat
the boys watch the trout
towed behind us
like demented pull-toys.
The fish gasp and flip,
fighting the metal hooked into their gills.

One fish has deep scars
like stripes on a tiger;
evidence of some battle –
just to end up gutted,
spilling roe
like pearls,
as dark blood stains my shoes.

  1. Brian Carlin says:

    like the best reportage there is an undercurrent of meaning which lifts this into the unsettling.
    i really got grabbed by this….good write

  2. Slamdunk says:

    Wonderful verse–thanks for sharing.

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