Short Sea Bass Poems

My Low Country Boil


                                 Filled the cauldron, lit the gas
                                     Added shrimps, sea bass
                              Spices, herbs - can’t be too much
                                      And now my own touch:
                                         I pour in white wine.
                                                 All will be
                                                     Fine!...

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Where I fish 
was once a railroad bridge.

Gone now, passengers dismissed,
Faded memories of beach bound trips.

I fish among the ruins in disguise,
Debris where black sea bass dance and flounder hide.

But how great the whistle must have been,
Noise rippling the creeks surface above where the fish still swim.

Don’t be surprise, the bridge is still here with me.
With passing souls, I see them each time I cast into this timid sea.

Sunday, October 24, 2021...

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