Poetry: Portrait of fisherman at twilight

Somewhere on a box in the basement
is a note that says "To sort." It's where
the scraps of life long past are stuffed.
My father's in there somewhere
standing by a poplar stump.
He's cleaning fish.

Behind him on the privy is a row of tails
of thirty squirrels he had shot and hung
for show. His right hand holds
the knife he'll use to gut his catch,
his left, the hammer for the blow
so they won't feel the knife,
he hopes.

The gold teeth in his smile still flash
in spite of the encroaching night that
fades his face, while catfish, live,
still squirming in the pail below
await his hammer, knife —
enshrined on that dim print
a Brownie camera
captured long ago.

–––––––––––––––––

Grayce Scholt is a retired English professor from Mott College who wrote art reviews for the Flint Journal. Her book of poetry, Bang! Go All the Porch Swings, is available online from Amazon and from Pages Bookstore in downtown Flint. A personal narrative of the poet's life in Europe in the early 1950s, Vienna, Only You, is available from the author at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .