THE EXHIBITION
•
THE EXHIBITION •
‘Fishing’
Derek Kalback is a music teacher in Cincinnati, OH. In his spare time he reads, writes, and spends time with his three daughters and fiancee.
Fishing
What you cannot bear
is the carp gone slack.
The bright hook, deadly J,
piercing the cartilaginous lip,
and the hollow, papery
sound of its removal,
like a knife tearing through a
delicate Japanese fan.
What’s dismissed, though,
is that elemental struggle
between man and nature;
a strange, primal necessity
pursued to great lengths –
the sudden, violent thrashing
just beneath the water’s
surface; the nearly-invisible line,
taut and thin as a spider’s silk
winking in the dusky light.
I remember fishing with my father
off a stony outcrop in Scituate;
the sleek stripers the color
of twilight, and the bluefish
he didn’t mean to catch
and approached cautiously
with pliers to remove the hook.
I remember, too, wading knee-high
in a muddy Ohio creek and spotting
a long gar swimming toward us
with a face like hedge trimmers
and a mouth full of tiny translucent teeth.
We spent most of the afternoon
in that creek, catching nothing.
For toilet paper, he tore off
the sleeves of his T-shirt. Old
Coke bottles were unearthed,
rinsed off, and carried home
in a plastic bag. They clinked
against each other, causing
hairline cracks and chips.
Some, like memories, shattered.
Derek Kalback is a music teacher in Cincinnati, OH. In his spare time he reads, writes, and spends time with his three daughters and fiancee.