These fish have no eyes 
these silver fish that come to me in dreams, 
scattering their roe and milt 
in the pockets of my brain.

But there's one that comes-- 
heavy, scarred, silent like the rest, 
that simply holds against the current,

closing its dark mouth against 
the current, closing and opening 
as it holds to the current.

Added: on December 10th, 2006 at 1:58 AM | Viewed: 6976 times | Comments (1)

Poet: Raymond Carver (Raymond Carver Art)
Poem: The Current
Poem of the Day: Sep 26 2000

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