Papio by Eric Chock

It’s April which means it’s poetry month and I am always a slow starter but I do like to try and highlight poems this month so this is by Bamboo Ridge editor and poet Eric Chock from A Hawai’i Anthology edited by Joseph Stanton, 1997.

This papio caught by my fisherman hubby on Hilo Bay 4/1/18.



This one’s for you, Uncle Bill.

I didn’t want to club the life

from its blue and silver skin,

so I killed it by holding it

upside-down by the tail

and singing into the sunset.

It squeaked three times

in a small dying chicken’s voice,

and became a stiff curve

like a wave that had frozen

before the break into foam.

In the tidal pool

we used to stand in

I held the fish and laughed

thinking how you called me

handsome at thirteen.

I slashed the scaled belly,

pulled gills and guts,

and a red flower bloomed

and disappeared with a wave

like a last breath

your body heaved

on a smuggled Lucky Strike and Primo

in a hospital bed.

You wanted your ashes out at sea

but Aunty kept half on the hill.

She can’t be swimming the waves at her age

and she wants you still.

Tagged ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: