Diving Below the Dam
by Nick Norwood

I saw a catfish big as a car
backed in among the boulders,
an old Chrysler with fins and whiskers,
skin dark and flat as auto primer.
Sunlight filtering through water
streaked the concrete wall. He hovered near,
drifting like a blimp on a tether,
ignoring me as I hung before
him with my spear gun. The monster
rednecks talk about, fattening on gar,
bass, the occasional alligator.
I stroked backward, turned to flipper
toward the surface, away from fear,
when the sun, in a liquid blur,
appeared for the first time ever
as what it is: a floating star
like a water wheel seen from afar.

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