In memory of Tamia Doll
She would be out in the boat
near Summerstown
outwitting sundry perch.
She would watch the other boats
scattered like distant ducks
at the desultory edges of weed beds.
When it was impossible
to fish, she would commit
painting:
silent boats
scattered like lost stars
at the edges of possibility.
The fingers that twisted
worms and minnows
onto hooks
also twisted pigment
and oils into
real dreams.
Some time after she was
dragged down into her own dream,
they found her works
stacked in her flooded basement,
muddied beyond even
the power of sleep
to recall.
[podcast]http://riverwriter.ca/podcast/dreaming_with_fishes.mp3[/podcast]
Perch Fishing near Summerstown . by Tamia Doll
