gobsmacked

Gobsmacked


The small trout in the creek stood still
looking at me, a fearless gaze it had;
as I made a face it flicked its tail, stuck
my tongue out, another flick.

A dream had come true I was having
a conversation with a fish, recited an
epic poem: “Terje Viken” by Henrik
Ibsen, its tail flicked no ends.

Bubbles to surface, it spoke to me, but
a big shadow came behind it, too late;
the tiny fish was eaten by a big one that
didn’t have the gift of speech