College Media Network - Search the largest news resource for college students by college students Jobs and internships for students -

It is hard to be Father, it is hard to be a Son.

ACADEMY OF AMERICAN POETS PRIZE: Winner

Award Winner

Published: Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Updated: Wednesday, April 29, 2009

FISH

Sam Cook/mct

The father tells his son: the fish
    Are hungry at night,
    And early in the morning.
He trusts his father,
Has never caught a fish,
Is twelve years-old.

Alone,
He carries a yellow
Inflatable raft down
To Donner Lake –
    So cold, the body composed
        Almost entirely of snow.
It is summer, but at this hour
    And altitude
    Wet, steamy breath.

He is determined to catch a fish –
    His father still asleep –
       
Unsure if he even likes to eat fish,
Cannot remember tasting fish,
What type swim in this lake?

His mother, his father, will not ask him,
“Why, son, were you so determined to catch a fish?”

Lake lightens
Into globular surface of
    Bright, furtive crystals
Angry loudmouth motors: ripples, then
    Waves.
Resigns, realizing
The float is not disapearing
Because of hungry fish.
Reeling in the line: a clean, bare hook.

He is embarrassed by his father’s smile:
He had hoped to bring home a fish,
    And is too young to tell tall tales.
We will fish again tonight, the father says.

He, his father, and his younger brother
Cast lines into
Clandestine run-offs
The men at camp say this is where the fish are biting, the father says.
Hopeful,
But his hook catches in the branches
Of large trees.
His brother – with a junior black-and-yellow fishing rod
Not made to actually catch
Anything –
Catches a fish;
The father helps reel it in.

The father, unprepared,
Has no bucket, no net, so
They return to camp
With dinner
Struggling.

It is dying, the mother says.
We must kill it, the father says.

Skinned, cooked, seasoned:
The mother drops it
Onto the dirt –
    Half wrapped in shiny, grill-burnt foil
    Moist, pink.
    What type swim in this lake?

He eats a clean piece,
Pressing the meat between his tongue
    And the ribbed roof of his mouth.
It is sweet, and tastes of pepper.

The brother is unsure if he even likes to eat fish
And refuses to eat
A very clean piece.

Recommended: Articles that may interest you

Be the first to comment on this article!







log out