By Rachel Kessler
Do you think the giant squid
ever touches itself,
wandering a tentacle
in a documentary voice?
And it attacks one limb with another?
Not the best table topic for a couple
stepping into a mortgage.
Under the locks
the sea shifts a shoulder.
If only belief were truth!
A sardine is anything you get out of a can.
A couple walks into a house.
The spire stabs the heart
of the sun’s deviled egg.
Be careful.
The algae is never gone,
the damp gropes under the house’s blouse.
Is this the worst mistake you ever made?
Those that make it arrive in ragged condition, spawn
and die. It is hard not to be sad around salmon.
Fungus grows from their wounds.
If only the poem could turn here!
Fish are finding their way home with special nostrils,
U-turns of scent, back to the river of their birth.
Watch them leap, watch them batter themselves
against the rocks, watch them thrash through the air,
leaping arguments against compromise.
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The very best part of my Wednesday was getting eaten alive by mosquitos during a ten-minute walk and Regice raid with friends in Cabin John Park. The rest of it was about cleaning up from other bugs, which had better all be dead tomorrow or I may spontaneously combust (don't worry, I'll take the cats out of the house first). So I will be locked in my basement with the aforementioned cats for quite a while on Wednesday but hopefully then I will in some ways get my life back.
In between laundries, we watched this week's The 100 (Abby better be all right you bastards) and the second episode of A Very English Scandal (which I feel like I am finding funnier than I should, given how awful these people are). Here are photos from the Hiram M. Chittenden Locks, the Washington Ship Canal, and Ballard Fish Ladder (you can see the drawbridge being raised for a large ship, then lowered with trains going over it, as well as the water in the locks being raised and lowered):
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