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.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Raymond Carver's poem The Current

1 Comment

  1. RS says:

    Why would you care what a perfect stranger has to say about this poem?

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