Wednesday, August 27, 2014


Tell me why they leap
high against the water’s face, each one
a single silver muscle, clenched like a brandished fist.

They filled the Columbia once
from shore to shore, navigation hazard:
legend said you could walk
dryshod on their backs. Now
we watch at windows on the fish ladder,
celebrate each exhausted climber,
each smolt that makes it safe to sea.

Tell me why they leap
in memory of something they know as home,
or in defiance against gravity, downstream flow
or their own dwindling returns?

Available! High-Voltage Lines, Knocking from Inside

No comments: