Tuesday, April 06, 2010

Dan Poem

Final Congregation

This is where the salmon gather, yawning
almost in unison, forcing the diverted
creek water through gills, as we,
who gather on the side
of the glass, witness their final
days, hours. It looks as if they're gasping,
gulping water like we would air at the end
of a fifty-yard dash we weren't prepared for.
But these fish were prepared for this. Not here
in a concrete holding pond, where vertical
and horizontal real estate shrinks every minute,
but out in the creek that constantly caressed them,
the current telling them where to go, until they
could go no farther: diverted--their only choice--
to this hatchery. But even now, a few still try
to climb on, break the surface of the pond,
with a hope new water will catch them, calling them
up stream, and a few unfortunate ones try
hard enough, only to find their efforts
land them in a waterless bed.

Dan Morris 4/6/10

2 comments:

lindsey said...

i so love that dan is writing. his poems are just right - observant, passionate, unpredictable.

xo

Mamushka Marie said...

gorgeous poetry...
xo,
claire
Mamushka Marie