The children pull on waders
and enter the river,
saltier here than at Haverstraw but less so
than at Piermont, which affects
what life they’ll find in the net
they drag to the bank.
Counselors have a tank ready
for the wiggling fish we’ll try to name
from a book. What shape are the fins?
If the tail splits, turn to page 30.
A small translucent one
dies in the transfer, is quickly
scooped out of sight. River advocates
believe the learning’s worth it — A relationship
with even one creature
can open everything. They know
we only fight to protect what we love.
Across the water, a smudge of train
speeds people toward Manhattan.
Some children smash stones with mallets,
aiming for powder which, when wet,
acts as paint they’ll use for portraits
of the fish. Other children
search for sea glass, former garbage
ground valuable.
A pit bull bounds after a stick,
returns soaked and triumphant,
then rolls in the sand. An old Golden
swims out, then farther out, white muzzle
turning the wrong way at his master’s command.
Scared, the children stop and watch, parents
discuss diving in as the dog, blind (though we don’t
know this then), paddles at a diagonal
away from shore.
Sometimes what we fear
doesn’t happen, sorrow
waiting for another day. Counselors tell us
the once-toxic Hudson’s now clean enough
for some fish to be eaten.
The retriever’s owner wades out,
uses his voice to guide the dog home.
This poem first appeared in To See What Rises (CW Books, 2023).
—
Alison Stone published nine collections, including Informed (NYQ Books, 2024), To See What Rises (CW Books, 2023), Zombies at the Disco (Jacar Press, 2020), Caught in the Myth (NYQ Books, 2019), Dazzle (Jacar Press, 2017), Ordinary Magic (NYQ Books, 2016), Dangerous Enough (Presa Press 2014), and They Sing at Midnight, which won the 2003 Many Mountains Moving Award. She won Poetry’s Frederick Bock Prize, New York Quarterly’s Madeline Sadin Award, and The Lyric’s Lyric Prize.
