11 April, 2020: Lost Pond
Read a Poem
by Willard Greenwood
Like Ishmael slowly falling astern the sinking Pequod
Was the PBR sixer trailing astern our square stern canoe—
A practice that we were practicing for the warmer days ahead.
The air of this lost pond was chilly enough
To chill the canned beer secured by our silly amateur lanyard.
Pale Geraldo and I were waiting
For shore lunch--we were waiting for a hunch
To tell us that our windburns
Had earned us distinction among the dead
Who were trolling with us.
We were trolling some classic streamers,
Gray Ghosts, Black Ghosts and Nine-Threes
With Floating Line in early April .
And so it was that we were trolling for
The big ones with patterns from the long dead tiers.
O, Pale Geraldo!
Your just dead Math Professor Dad
Was with us in our sober speech.
Your just buried Dad
Would be observed once
We had beached for shore lunch.
The lore of the old tiers and your Dad’s pure mind
Would preside over the saint of the small fire
That warmed store bread,
Chicken, and our bare hands.
At least, we had not quit drinking.
In vino veritas, and re-hab is for quitters,
Which is why we trolled into the cold dark
And thus were not quite sure where we had parked
We had locked the keys inside, and so
There was a very good reason and plenty of time to assess
The day’s mistakes and miscalculations.
“Lost Pond” by Willard Greenwood from Pelagic Mania. Finishing Line. 2017. Used by permission of the author.
Willard P. Greenwood II, who has a PhD from Purdue University and degrees from Georgia State University and University of Maine at Orono, is from Maine and has been at Hiram College since 2001 teaching courses on Poetry, Writing, American Literature and a course on Fly Fishing. He lives in Hiram, Ohio, with his wife Beth and has three sons: Robert, Michael, and Max. Greenwood is editor-in-chief of Hiram Poetry Review, which has been in continuous publication since 1966. He also has published a scholarly book, Reading Cormac McCarthy, as well as publishing articles, essays and poems on fly fishing.
Write a poem
Write a poem in which you confuse the meanings of a word that has more than one meaning, such as bridge (a game or a span over a river), coat (a garment or a layer of paint), birdie (an animal or golf term) L'Albatros (the bird, golf term, poem, problem or Cleveland restaurant) -- or any other such word you can think of.