The night smoothes out its black tarp,
tacks it to the sky with stars.
Lake waves slap the bank, define
a shoreline as one man casts
his seine into the unseen,
lifts the net's pale bloom, lets spill
of threadfin fill the live well.
Soon that squared pool of water
flickers as if a mirror,
surfaces memory of when
this deep water was a sky.

Added: Feb 21 2003 | Viewed: 799 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Ron Rash
Poem: Deep Water
Volume: Raising the Dead
Year: Published/Written in 2002
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