My cast has flushed the gray-toothed afterglow,
a haze has pocked the gunwale. Droplets shine,
while mouthing ranks of carp begin to slow.

We glower silent since the evening row
you'll bottle, coddle faithfully, enshrine.
My cast has flushed the gray-toothed afterglow,

the hook drifts weightless. Here no one will crow
of catgut straining catches. We resign
while mouthing ranks of carp begin to slow.

You scoop up the wine glasses, go below,
leave me without an offer to decline.
My cast has flushed the gray-toothed afterglow

with no reply to scale and gut. I stow
the knives and reels, the plastic pail of brine,
while mouthing ranks of carp begin to slow.

Your single magnificent perch I throw
into a gorge of blue reflected pine.
My cast has flushed the gray-toothed afterglow,
while mouthing ranks of carp begin to slow.

1999