← v12n1, Spring 2013
Poetry · Volume 12, Number 1

Brooding Eels

They are circling circling wanting a way to the sea

the urge to spawn comes the urge to spawn goes

there is no way to swim to the sea they are

circling growing bigger growing tremendous

they lift heads now huge out of water to smell

air whether there will be a change

so they can swim to the sea (a rock

slide blocks their way from the lake

to the sea) they are circling for decades

their skin thickens their eyes cloud they are ready

the urge to spawn comes the urge to spawn goes

they will die some day they will never

die there is no way no way

to the sea breeding is necessary brooding

is what happens will there be a chance a storm

or just this ache for distance another century?