Three days searchers worked below
rock-leaps her feet had not bridged,
men trolling grabbling hooks through
suck hole and blue hole, bamboo
poles jabbing the backs of falls
before the high sheriff told
her folks there was but one way,
so Jake Poston came, his poke
bulging with a snapper’s weight,
its head a jawed fist, mossed shell
big as a washpan, fishhook
deep-barbed in the webbed back foot,
the shank’s eye knotted with line
thick as guitar string. He kicked
it off the bank, let out line
like a leash as the snapper
wandered river floor, then stopped,
and Jake just nodded, the men
wading on in. No one spoke
of the gashes in her throat,
or of why he hadn’t cut
that line afterward, had slung
thirty pounds of turtle on
his back, headed downriver
to the cabin where no wife
set his table, where no meat
yet simmered in the kettle.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Ron Rash's poem On The Keowee

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Do you have any comments, criticism, paraphrasis or analysis of this poem that you feel would assist other visitors in understanding the meaning or the theme of this poem by Ron Rash better? If accepted, your analysis will be added to this page of American Poems. Together we can build a wealth of information, but it will take some discipline and determination.