Putting Up Fish

By MISTEE ST. CLAIR

 

            —for my oldest

Rows of Yukon kings hung
in strips over alder frames.
A tin shack held the smoke
so it drifted around the fish,
which dripped a dark orange oil
onto blackened soil. The run 
was thick as willows, and twice a day
the men took the boat across the river
and pulled in the nets.
The women spent their days
and nights gutting, stripping,
and hanging the salmon.

And I was full with you. I took
the smaller fish while you flopped
in my belly. And when I ate the strips,
I felt the alder and ash, the oil
and river, purl through us.
When next spring I offered that gold
instead of my breast, you gnawed
and chewed the meat with your new teeth,
sucking the fatty skin until your mouth
stained an orange glow.
That was seventeen years ago,
when I believed we were still one
and that you would always want
what I wanted. What little I knew.
The first thing to hang
were my expectations.

 

Mistee St. Clair is an Alaska Literary Award grantee and has been published by Northwest Review, SWWIM Every Day, and more. She lives with her family in Juneau, a northern rainforest, where she is an editor for the Alaska State Legislature. She can be found at MisteeStClair.com.

[Purchase Issue 25 here.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Putting Up Fish

Related Posts

Image of a tomato seedling

Talks with the Besieged: Documentary Poetry from Occupied Ukraine  

ALEX AVERBUCH
Russians are already in Starobilsk / what nonsense / Dmytrovka and Zhukivka – who is there? / half a hundred bears went past in the / direction of Oleksiivka / write more clearly / what’s the situation in Novoaidar? / the bridge by café Natalie got blown up / according to unconfirmed reports

A Tour of America

MORIEL ROTHMAN-ZECHER
This afternoon I am well, thank you. / Walking down Main Street in Danville, KY. / The heavy wind so sensuous. / Last night I fell- / ated four different men back in / Philadelphia season lush and slippery / with time and leaves. / Keep your eyes to yourself, yid. / As a kid, I pledged only to engage / in onanism on special holidays.

cover for "True Mistakes" by Lena Moses-Schmitt

Giving the Poem a Body: Megan Pinto interviews Lena Moses-Schmitt

LENA MOSES-SCHMITT
I think sometimes movement can be used to show how thought is made manifest outside the body. And also just more generally: when you leave the house, when you are walking, your thoughts change because your environment changes, and your body is changing. Moving is a way of your consciousness interacting with the world.