Poetry
The Fish
Peter Coe Verbica
At first,
the bags of water
walked:
through red deserts,
through green forests,
through gray cities.
And then,
the bags of water
talked:
about race,
about gender,
about equity.
And then,
the bags of water
balked:
over history,
over liberty,
over private property.
And then,
the bags of water
stalked:
demanding homogeneity,
demanding retribution,
demanding silence.
And then,
the bags
of water became unstopped:
drowning libraries,
drowning classrooms,
drowning cattle, chickens, and pigs.
And when
the bags of water
were empty,
they danced in a circle,
and prayed for a river.
The dark sky answered
and afterwards,
it just
rained
and reined
and reigned:
soaking our yards,
soaking our bread,
soaking our shirts,
soaking our shoes,
soaking our soil,
until all that was left were the fish.
Peter Coe Verbica grew up on Rancho San Felipe, a cattle ranch in Northern California. He earned his BA in English from Santa Clara University, a JD from Santa Clara University School of Law, and an MS from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.