"Fisher Tales" |
Pompano
2011 Terri Kirby Erickson
Knee-deep in sea water;
Grandma casts her line.
Just beyond the spot
where the current drags
her baited hooks,
a school of pompano
breaks the surface,
their scales gleaming
like new dimes.
She walks backward
toward the shore,
her Bermuda shorts wet
and flopping around
her legs; a hot-pink cap
pulled low on her forehead.
Her brown hands. so deft
and sure, reeling in,
letting out-will catch
them two at a time,
all afternoon. She will
wield a knife flecked with silver and shiny
with viscera; will roll
the sweet bits of meat
in cornmeal and fry
them for our supper.
And when the night air;
salty as pork rinds, pours
through the rusted
screens of our summer cottage, the sound
of waves makes music
for the pompano, still
running in our dreams.
**********************************************************************************
Afterword: At Weaver House, here in Greensboro, NC where John and I are staying, an elderly woman who is Italian and walks around with a walker was being abused in the dorm by a bitch until this was stopped by staff. This woman is called "Grandma" by the people there. This is indicative of disrespect in general of elderly women.Too bad crooks started this up to begin with. :(
Regards,
Kimberly! :)
No comments:
Post a Comment