We paddled the boat
through dark water, fish
bloomed up around us
in eddies, circling in whirlpools
our modest vessel.
We cast out lines with baited
hooks waiting, spread out
small nets, reeling in the sharp
cold bodies which
sometimes slipped through
my fingers before I could look
at them and wonder what swaying
fans and grasses they saw
at the bottom of the black caldera
lake. My brother taught me
how to hack off the heads,
pulling the skeleton out
of its meat and skin cushion.
He taught me these things,
but he did not teach me
how to swim when the boat tips,
how to pull out a hook from my palm.
