Trout

You can string together
a thousand streams and lakes,
and never notice
that the fish in your hand
has all the weight and promise
of a new accordion
which, of course, you can't play.

I remember a time when the trout seemed loaded,
like a purse. With my knife,
I made the neat slit of a burglar:
from the studded jewellery of the gut,
gouts appeared, as big rubies,
and scales covered my blade like little diamonds.

When the crime was done,
I was left with the fish - a silken glove,
ungodly on my gauche hand.