There was a peppermint slowing dissolving on her tongue.
I could see it everytime she opened her mouth.
I’m 84 she said My son Bob, here, is 63.
We were standing on the spillway looking down at
the dark green water before it fell 500 feet
down the otherside to be part of the creek that snaked
through the forest like a slow snail.
Their total fish caught was over 50 blue gill,
until some turtles snapped at the basket
last night–some were lucky, some were not.
I live in Jerimiah she said as if I would know just
where that little Kentucky town sleeps.
I just listened, amazed at all the glistening blue gill
Bob yanked, one after another, his pole constantly arching its back.
His mom complaining how the rental cabins got rid of the cast iron skillets:
She’d clean’em and cook’em,
but couldn’t promise
the usual feast.