Freshwater forgotten, the chinook salmon
senses in itself a call—a pull—
riverward. There is time to spend at sea, bottomless
numbers of delicious prey: sand eels, herring, squid
if you’re big enough. There’s no real downside
to size: at the end of all this upstream
girth can make or break a redd, so let her swell
and swell. Just keep swimming. Feel the muscles
rowing every fin—pectoral, pelvic, anal, caudal,
adipose, dorsal—each one dangerous and oh so sleek.
At some point, all of us turn out to seek
a mouth that pushes back, that promises
estuary, struggle, intercourse, and death.
At some point, all of us are dammed,
so find a way—they’ve made one.
—
Calvin Olsen’s poetry and translations have appeared in AGNI, Asymptote, Poetry Scotland, SALT, and World Literature Today, among many others. Originally from Idaho, he currently lives in Columbus, OH where he is a senior lecturer in the English department at Ohio State University. More of his work can be found at calvin-olsen.com.
