Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Baruch November: Summer, Duluth, M.N.

Cold morning slides a metal boat 

into Lake Superior. My father

gouges sunlit waves

with oars, his back to far

horizon, his face to us—

until he anchors in the black

water and we reel 

in crappie after crappie, 

laughing at their name 

and the ease at which 

they are hooked, 

wondering, in the shadow of 

coming school days,

why more of life can’t 

be drawn out 

from darkness.


Copyright 2019 Baruch November. From Bar Mitzvah Dreams published by Main Street Rag.

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