The Poet Laureate of Jones Street

The imagination can lead to empathy for strangers;
even for animals:

Fishes

Without a splash
a fish, the color of mud,
flips into my mind.
He’s the flounder I caught for fun
long ago—now hook again

the line burning my hand
as through a string of bubbles
he bursts into a hectic flapping wing
crashing to the sand
his white belly, red with blood.

Now gasping, he stares
and suddenly fishes me.
Dry sand scrapes my back.
a giant hook tears
my  mouth.

Published: Poetic Justice, 1987

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Les Poissons

Sans éclaboussure
un poisson couleur de boue
saute dans ma tête.
C’est le carrelet que j’ai attrapé pour m’amuser
il y a longtemps–à nouveau piégé

la ligne me brûlant la main
lorsqu’il traverse un collier de bulles
et explose tel une furieuse aile volante
s’écrasant sur le sable
le ventre blanc, rouge de sang.

Suffocant, il me fixe
et soudain me pêche.
Le sable sec m’écorche le dos.
Un hameçon géant
me déchire la bouche.
……………………………….

1997. Traduction: Françoise Parouty
Publié: Décharge 2001; Tarabuste Éditions 2007