Gary Lark

While I Slept

I grew up worshiping a river,
a torrent that trickled, ran and raged
from the Cascade mountains.

I swam, fished and drank the sparkle
and curl of mountain blood.
I slept in its music.

It surged around me and all
the other critters that lived
in the living flow.

Years later I take my fly rod
to the lower river when I hear
the steelhead are running.

Cars and people and trash.
I hike around the bend,
just out of the way.

Then a jet boat with 50 riders
slams downstream,
does a swirling dido,
water sprays, people scream.

Next, a group of rafters
paddle through.

Another bunch in inflatables
towing a beer cooler
wave and wiggle.

I put the fly rod back in the car.
My god is now a carnival ride.

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Gary Lark’s most recent collections are Easter Creek, (Main Street Rag), Daybreak on the Water, (Flowstone Press), and Ordinary Gravity, (Airlie Press). His work has appeared in Beloit Poetry Journal, Catamaran, Rattle, Sky Island, and others. https://garylark.work/.

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