An entire valley rises in a cloud
To the silence in his voice
New moons make me shiver
Before they become fish hooks
Rusted nails Long thin curved ice picks
Memory makes a powerful x-ray
A fragment of your handwriting
On an old dinner menu
He is talking to the camera
In one of those 1950’s 8 mm tapes
Pointing at the lake Gesturing
As if reeling in a large fish
Then cooking it for dinner
With a skillet in a camp fire
He has caught me forever
And I would never swim against him
