The Great Ray That Got Away

The Great Ray That Got Away

Only you and the fish are smiling. The salmon

since he got away, today and grandpa,

you got some good looks before the final splash.

I've heard the story so many times—

skunk trips to the sea, early

to bed, to rise, sounds wise

until I’m five hours off shore, still broke,

fishing for kings with my jack-

of-all-trades Great Grandpa Ray.

Though, we've never been salmon fishing before

but I continue to look like you. Arms

extended, still posing for pictures

from a childhood never taken, stolen

memories— with your cigars hooked in cartilage,

lines set for cancer, me reeling as fast

as I could to grow big enough for the boat

so dad and you would pack me in the cooler.

I was awake then, listening and dreaming,

when men were rising with the dawn

and this son only a man long after

your sun set; Grandpa you were

this great. My Great Grandpa Ray gone,

only pretend trips to take to the big lake,

Dad’s done you proud and whenever

there’s a skunk in the boat

after trolling for too long, five more minutes, I’ll

think at least you didn't miss this—

We miss you, the one that got away. No

he wasn't as big as your tales,

you were this big and got away too soon. 

"Big Fish" mixed media art by: Thomas Massey