Poem from:

Museum Crows by Ron Houchin

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At fourteen on the lake with grandfather

Houchin, Ron

Standing in the boat on a clear day at
Beech Fork is like standing on the great
lip of the world. I know something’s
down there as tackle ploinks into the water.

Before grandfather can say, “Reel her
in. Don’t give her too much line,”
I think of the fish as she. She is 
swallowing my offering,

and I am lifting her from water
into a world where she cannot live.
Now, I’ve got to get her into the boat,
close to me, to be held in the sun

and air of my fantasy.
She smells like the deep mystery of
the world’s insides. She is all     
things bright and provocative. 
I look into her face thinking
this will make a great memory,
as if we are alone and I am capable
of more than one kind of love.

Copyright Ron Houchin 2009

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