Tuesday, May 12, 2015

River Occurrence

there are times for salmon
when deep water refuges become prisons
i don't know how or why
but i like it when i see them free
glinting silver while they jump

as bears know
there's an art to catching a leaping salmon
putting paws in certain places
waiting for a pinnacle moment
to sink teeth into scales
puncture pinkish red flesh
savor the scent of fish blood
that squeezes, pours into rapids

if i were to watch it from a riverbank
i'd be enthralled
but i still hope, foolishly
for a day when there's no such thing
as killing






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