rises to that perfect aspect

a silver dance
to the stream
the sea-buoy  winks red
the channel marker green
red/green all the way to horizon

where the shrimp trawlers run the coast

my girls recoil at the blood
on the jetty as old Crackers
land fish

leave them smacking
head to tail across the pier
in their final dance

bait another hook

"JaJa, that's so mean,"
my girls chant in unison,
"Why do they do that?"

the moon burns behind my eyes

"So they can eat."