Fish/Fisherman Poem
 Saturday, May 19, 2007
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FISH/FISHERMAN by Louis Jenkins

The fish are either off or on. Day after day there are no fish, only wind and waves, and seagulls waiting patiently. Then the fish are on. They come from nowhere, suddenly alive and turning and flashing in unison, uncles, cousins, daughters. All fish are one fish but their combined intelligence cannot outwit a gill net. Then the fish are off and lie in the bottom of the boat with x's for eyes.

After I've cleaned the fish and sold most of the day's catch, I bring a few home for supper. I always put one fish out on the stump beside the shed. In the morning the fish is gone. I don't know what takes it, if it's a weasel or a raccoon or a bear or a crow. I don't watch, or try to track whatever it is. I put the fish out in the evening, and in the morning it's gone.

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