The Difficulties of Holding All Together in the Mind
fishing, late, the heavy wound weight of the net drops quickly down from the long, black boon and spreads, thickly, across a surface:
water, tensely held to itself, rolling eagerly in a way that is bound, binding; as ropes break it, are swallowed, darken beneath the surface; as a gear clacks loud, close, letting more loosed rope out and down.
jolting, the boat moves forward as a second rumble from aft stretches further backwards until taut and holds --- engines pull an equal weight behind us, unseen, soon in black-green water, ballooned in opposite motion.
motors stop in a suitable time, wenches tighten engage dredge pull on the draws of the purse-seine as it brings up the first flashing, clapping grays.
loads change in sudden fashion, the water-weight rushing in thick columns out, the stunned and gasping fish, a moment ago weightless, piling in thick mass as the net is lifted up from the ocean, long strands of kelp dangling limply as water channels their lengths and runs steadily down.
with a deep movement, the deck rocks backward in relief, the sea no longer its responsibility.
watching, with a gloved hand I pull hard against the cold, metal handle of the hold-latch and listen: to the echoing patter of water falling from cord, from knot, from crushed bodies, from open mouths and down to the grease-slick floor.
with another motion the net opens and there is a singular sound,
____________________before the lapping of waves resumes against the bow.
