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I caught a tremendous fish
and held him ...The Fish<br />I caught a tremendous fish <br />and held him beside the boat <br />half out of water, with my hook <br />fast in a corner of his mouth. <br />He didn't fight. <br />He hadn't fought at all. <br />He hung a grunting weight, <br />battered and venerable <br />and homely. Here and there <br />his brown skin hung in strips <br />like ancient wallpaper, <br />and its pattern of darker brown <br />was like wallpaper: <br />shapes like full-blown roses <br />stained and lost through age. <br />He was speckled and barnacles, <br />fine rosettes of lime, <br />and infested <br />with tiny white sea-lice, <br />and underneath two or three <br />rags of green weed hung down. <br />While his gills were breathing in <br />the terrible oxygen <br />--the frightening gills, <br />fresh and crisp with blood, <br />that can cut so badly-- <br />I thought of the coarse white flesh <br />packed in like feathers, <br />the big bones and the little bones, <br />the dramatic reds and blacks <br />of his shiny entrails, <br />and the pink swim-bladder <br />like a big peony. <br />I looked into his eyes <br />which were far larger than mine <br />but shallower, and yellowed, <br />the irises backed and packed <br />with tarnished tinfoil <br />seen through the lenses <br />of old scratched isinglass. <br />They shifted a little, but not <br />to return my stare. <br />--It was more like the tipping <br />of an object toward the light. <br />I admired his sullen face, <br />the mechanism of his jaw, <br />and then I saw <br />that from his lower lip <br />--if you could call it a lip <br />grim, wet, and weaponlike, <br />hung five old pieces of fish-line, <br />or four and a wire leader <br />with the swivel still attached, <br />with all their five big hooks <br />grown firmly in his mouth. <br />A green line, frayed at the end <br />where he broke it, two heavier lines, <br />and a fine black thread <br />still crimped from the strain and snap <br />when it broke and he got away. <br />Like medals with their ribbons <br />frayed and wavering, <br />a five-haired beard of wisdom <br />trailing from his aching jaw. <br />I stared and stared <br />and victory filled up <br />the little rented boat, <br />from the pool of bilge <br />where oil had spread a rainbow <br />around the rusted engine <br />to the bailer rusted orange, <br />the sun-cracked thwarts, <br />the oarlocks on their strings, <br />the gunnels--until everything <br />was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! <br />And I let the fish go.<br /><br />Elizabeth BishopAnonymousnoreply@blogger.com