From VII in the sequence “Migrant” in The Lease by Mathew Henderson. The foxes have lapped the water from sloughs contaminated by cow shit and they are later
retching rabbit from their stomachs in the field
And even this water brings your mind to trout:
the first one you caught, slapped down, scales on sink,
and cut, still gulping, from belly to tail. Your fingers
probing like your father’s, hard against the gentle insides,
and finally the quiet as you felt a little salamander, still living,
wriggle his head free of the guts. Placed him gently
on the lawn, found him frozen the next morning.
For some reason (the mention of trout? the poetic use of technical vocabulary?) the poem in this part of the sequence and as a whole reminds me of Earle Birney’s “David“.
And so for day 980