Spawning Cages

I was feeling pretty righteous
sitting by the stream in bicycle shorts
looking at the fish in cages
their long bodies dull in the sunlight
the water foaming like Champagne

The sign said rangers harvest the
roe and, somehow, the sperm.
They plant the eggs
in rivers and creeks
around the state so new salmon
will return to fresh streams and
more lakes can open
after 40 years for fishing and people
can continue to play god
to beings slimier than we. 

But then I thought if I could manage it
I would do the same for my children.
Plant them in a safe streambed
where they would have to return
every year or die trying--
Leaping up waterfalls
with all the other fish, single-minded
but in community
a family reunion
where everybody shows up.

But then I thought
I’d never even find them,
their slippery young bodies
looking like all the rest
and maybe it’s better just to hope they’ll call
or come home every third Christmas,
less focused on propagation than on family
though the two remain
inseparable.

And then I thought maybe
I should at least get pregnant before
planning Christmases, should let
the fish swim upstream
without cages or fishing lines to impede them
which is where I started out, only
I was feeling a lot more
righteous back then.


                            Published 2009 in Quercus Review

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