The Silver Fish
I killed a great silver fish,
cut him open with a long
thin knife. The river carried
his heart away. I took his
dead eyes home. His red flesh
sang to me on the fire I built
in my backyard. His taste
was the lost memory of my
wildness. Behind amber clouds
of cedar smoke, Orion
drew his bow. A black moon rose
from the night’s dark waters,
a sliver of its bright face
reflecting back into the universe.
cut him open with a long
thin knife. The river carried
his heart away. I took his
dead eyes home. His red flesh
sang to me on the fire I built
in my backyard. His taste
was the lost memory of my
wildness. Behind amber clouds
of cedar smoke, Orion
drew his bow. A black moon rose
from the night’s dark waters,
a sliver of its bright face
reflecting back into the universe.
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Disclaimer
We do not accept unsolicited submissions. American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2011 by Shawn Pittard, from his most recent book of poems, Standing in the River, Tebot Bach, 2011. Poem reprinted by permission of Shawn Pittard and the publisher. Introduction copyright © 2024 by The Poetry Foundation.