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Lexington Poetry Month
herrington lake
article by
tina andry

for clare

i loved to fish. it was akin to church and prayer when i was little.
(In that most gauzy age, when you are tenuous but invincible)
monsters under the bed and imaginary friends were freshly dead
but cutoffs, county fairs and the accidental brush from a cute boys hand
were just being born.
i stood, on a rocking dock
bugs like a cello
the green-black membrane surface seemed itself alive (and almost unpierceable).
i heard the stories. i knew about the town submerged down there.
thriving with algae. gar in and out of broken windows. rotted but alive.
i cast my lure to the magic places my eyes ached to see,
and retrieved from its solemn depths on the end of my line
a shimmering, writhing, gasping glimpse of mystery and hope.

24 responses to “herrington lake”

  1. Meadow Smith says:


  2. Joseph says:

    Thumbs up!!

  3. Jim Lally says:

    To me fishing is like religion:
    I think about it way more than I do it.

  4. Black Sunshine says:


  5. Douglas E. says:

    Nicely done.

  6. upfromsumdirt says:

    aint nothin hopeful bout ending up on the end of a line, fish-killer. maybe if you end up in love… but een then you still got a hook in your mouth.

  7. Amy Cunningham says:

    That’s why they tell fish stories. To entice you to go fishing!

  8. Frankie Wolf says:

    Oh, girl. This takes me back to Grayson Lake, staring into the depths looking for some other place while everyone else fished.

    • tina andry says:

      i would have done anything to see it.i even imagined the ghost of the people that use to live in the house floating through watery rooms.

  9. Larry Wheeler says:

    Haven’t been down here in decades. You brought it all back…

  10. Clare says:


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