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 Contents | February 2002 In This Issue (Contributors) More on poetry from The Atlantic Monthly. |
Crayfish Hunting
by Jonathan Musgrove .....  Hear Jonathan Musgrove read this poem (in RealAudio)Some small, tucked thing darts from under a turned stone before the water can clear the mud cloud I created by disturbing that wet dust. I am too big, hunched over like an unbalanced heron, my eyes unfocused to spot movement, nothing defined by edges: a contrary streak, quicker than the current. How unnatural I must seem, in rubber boots and a wool coat, to the wading birds, patiently waiting for their turn in this stream. Still, I must have some role in the autumn afternoon, my arms wet to the elbows, reaching into this cold water that has given birth to everything.
Copyright © 2002 by The Atlantic Monthly Group. All rights reserved. The Atlantic Monthly; February 2002; Crayfish Hunting; Volume 289, No. 2; 42. | [an error occurred while processing this directive] | ||
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