91. ice fishing

.

remember now the

shot crack as branches shatter

from cold, the whale-voice

.

of ice bending beyond

its tolerance. remember

the dark water, chips

.

in the ice fishing

hole catching against filament,

and the scratching

.

slush and squeak of snow

(oh, that crunch-creak

of snow) and the voice

.

of arctic stillness

descending with twilight, words

like orchestral coughs,

.

scandalous then, so

unnecessary. do you

remember fishing? 

.