Salmon tale

How odd, to see the river dive and

another flow over top. It’s the trick

of a siphon, where salmon once leapt,

scales singing to the sun.

This was where my father slid

into the water, skin as white

as chalk, and creamy soft.

He brought his salmon rod here, too,

a great cane whipper with side-on spool

and we tied on silvery ticers, and the

salmon snapped and realised too late

their mistake, and fought and fought

and lost, and I see them still on the grey

stones at the shore, mouths open.

There were others, too, eggs in redd,

who moved to the quiet side water,

and just the tail moved in a curl of water,

and they changed colour as their life ended

in the silty shallows where the river hid

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4 thoughts on “Salmon tale”

  1. those last 7 lines are tremendous John. pleasing to my ear. the rest of it, i like too. may i suggest line-breaking the 1st 4 lines into 3? maybe like this:

    How odd, to see the river dive and
    another flow over top. It’s the trick
    of a siphon, where salmon once leapt,

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