sam monroe olson
First Fish
Sam Monroe Olson
First Fish
Your damp hand closed
around my own,
we dead-drift
a caddis to the run’s end.
Shifting rock,
black fissure,
anything could be a fin.
No rise.
Not even a tug—Pass
off to Henry, who rejects
help, swings
once, and hooks a king
as long as his finger.
Coined with moon
phases, a tracing comet,
you let us hold it before
slipping it back
to the creek,
saying, go to sea,
little king.
All these years later, Jim,
I’m still trying.
Sam Monroe Olson is a candidate for the MFA in Poetry at Oregon State University. Prior to undertaking the MFA, he taught environmental science, managed wilderness trail crews, and facilitated creative writing workshops within Montana’s public schools and justice system. His poetry can be found or is forthcoming in Cutbank, Heartwood, and River Heron Review, among others.
