Today, at my Los Angeles Ralph’s, a carefully placed chorus line of shimmering silver fish stared at me. Mesmerized, I stared back into their lifeless eyes and recalled this Raymond Carver poem…and a certain ghost who haunts my brain.
So, I came home to paint this:
These fish have no eyes
these silver fish that come to me in dreams,
scattering their row and milt
in the pockets of my brain
But there’s one that comes —
heavy, scarred, silent like the rest,
that simply holds against the current,
Closing its dark mouth against
the current, closing and opening,
as it holds to the current.