LAST OF THE CATCHERS
I’ve never caught sight of what they catch, boys
Static as old men, old men less awkward
Than boys, patient as herons, as lizards
Wrists flicked quick as tongues, flies pierced and deployed
The lines cast far and teased, cast far and teased
What cold voids the hooks slip through, flat and clear
As quartz, or rough, catchers swamped as waves rear
The lines cast far and teased, cast far and teased
Neither salmon nor octopi striking
On bait, stone blocks stood on descending stairs
Numb to the logic they ballast below
Insistent tides as the cormorants shriek
Torpedo through reflected sky to spear
Vanished prey, shrugging off the undertow.
Author’s Bio
John Barton’s recent publications include Polari, Reframing Paul Cadmus, and The Malahat Review at 50. Anstruther will publish his seventh chapbook, Visible But Not Seen, later this year, and Palimpsest will publish his first book of prose, We Are Not Avatars: Essays, Memoirs, Manifestos, in 2019. He lives in Victoria.