Redds shine like new nickels on the dark river bottom,
salmon have returned to spawn the Deshutes,
navigating by primal memories written in DNA,
an internal Tom-Tom GPS wired in their brains.
Watching them struggle up the ladder,
consumed with a drive to leave offspring,
they are herculean athletes battling
the current and the inexorable pull of gravity.
Were these the fry I helped to seed four years ago?
A Squaxin woman told me once,
ghosts of her Coastal Salish ancestors
ride the salmon out to sea and home again.
Roe in these redds dream also of the sea,
their salty eyes and nostrils perceiving
spirits in secret claret-red kelp beds.
The waters ask only to be haunted again.
Author notes
A60sMan
A contest entry
- Outdoors. (pic inspired) by RainbowGirl257.
450 points, ended February 17, 2008, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Prewrites- READ THE SIMPLE RULES. by She Stole My Voice.
300 points, ended July 28, 2008, 19 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Washington by Cerulean Sunrise.
575 points, ended December 20, 2008, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Enjoyed reading this!
Well writ. -
excellent imagery throughout this piece. A very enjoyable read. Well done.
Rory
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wow, this is a truly great poem! i love how you have incorporated modern technology such as the sat-navs into it
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BEAUTIFUL!
beautiful imagery..nice easy read..love the contrast with an ancient source and modern technology..
Oh, and I can see those nickels!
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