A Poem: The Curse of the Early Trout


The Curse of the Early Trout

Right away she gives you a trout-
butter belly and orange red spots-
and misreading the message you lean into the day
with a skull full of fish.

She thought this was what you wanted-
this fish.
There have been misunderstandings
and confusions between you before
of course.

But today you don’t fold
and don’t just go away
and don’t just leave her the hell alone.

But she slams the door
and pulls the blind
and turns out the lights
and turns the sign around to say “Sorry Closed”
and you’re just left standing there knocking.
Knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s door.

Sometimes the river needs a day off too.
And so, in the first riffle
just up from the parking lot
she gives you that trout
on the first cast
as if to say
“Satisfied? Go away now.”

what say you?