100 Words on My Father with a Big Fish
by Jan Presley
If it’s just about the catch,
then this snapshot tells me to relax and let him be;
he’s about the moment of his hand inside the gills
of this monstrosity, the dampness drying its weight
against his blue-jeaned thigh,
fish-flesh and bone nearly wide and long as the man.
He furrows a hungry smile against the sun,
same smile he ravishes my mother with
when dinner is done—those nights
when he comes home.
I will arrive in ’54.
The plates on the Ram behind him are ‘53.
It’s just about the catch;
don’t take those other nights so personally.
|Jan Presley has an MFA in Poetry from Southern Illinois University. She's won national awards and has, in retirement from teaching, a book in the offing. She and her husband live in the foothills of the Shawnee. They eat almost as well as their grandchildren and get drunk on the beauty of the natural world. Photo provided by author.|