The Battlefield Where the Moon Says I Love You, poem 4

by Frank Stanford

Now he’s pulling the catfish up the bank he’s down on his knees
with the knife in his mouth the dog is trying to get a hold at his throat
so BoBo jerks his head around and gores the dog again I mean a good one too
the dog is lying in the mud whimpering BoBo has got a hold of the fish it’s nigh
as big as he is about two hundred pounds about the size of that alligator gar
we was riding the other day and I see catfish whiskers that look like
indigo snakes I’ve felt them brush up against my knees at night when I was in
the water I know BoBo is trying to stick his knife in the soft spot on the fish’s
head all he needs is a piece of wire like those sapsuckers twisted me up with
that’s right bob wire BoBo is going to try to paralyze it but the catfish
rolls and sweet Jesus the spike the big fin on top of his back it went clean
through BoBo he is hung up on the fish it is like the fish had it in him to spear
the nigger who run him through I can see it sticking out of BoBo’s back
and just when BoBo was grinding the knife in him turning the blade around and
around but the negro he still ain’t found the cat’s brain you got to hit it just
right that dog is just gnawing and now I can’t tell the difference
between catfish blood dog blood and BoBo’s blood come to think of it
I’m bleeding again myself I’m going to have to yell in a minute
but I’m mostly scared too I don’t know if I got no tongue left or not
I ain’t got no felling of one but sometimes I think I can see it
I see the negro pulling himself off the spike and the dog he done chewed
down to the bone pulling his guts along like a king’s robe
BoBo is on his back I think he’s crying I hope not cause the salt will be
running down in the cuts he is looking at the catfish and it’s growling
like a bobcat I know that cat is smart but the fisherman is smarter. . .

The Battlefield Where the Moon Says I Love You: (from page 2153 to 2177)

Last updated January 08, 2015